Red Sky in the Mourning
by laoisbabe
Summary: My version of the outcome of the shooting of Reddington at the end of episode 18 Season 2. SPOILER ALERT if you haven't watched it yet.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/n - this is my version of what could have happened following the end of Episode 18 (Season 2) recently. Hope you like it.**_

**_Disclaimer: Obviously, I do not own any of the superb Blacklist characters._**

Chapter 1

"Yes. I'm the one who hired Tom Keen to enter your life," Red admitted with contrition.

The expression on Elizabeth Keen's face disintegrated along with her faith in the man that stood before her. She backed away from him in shock and disbelief.

"Can I explain?" Reddington asked, his eyes pleading with her to let him be heard.

"No. No you cannot explain. Here, this is all you wanted. Now you have it," she said, shoving the lock box containing the Fulcrum into his body.

"Lizzie, when I hired Tom…"

"I said please do not attempt to explain why. I don't care why. I just want this to stop," she said, cutting him off. "I want it all to stop right now," she said, slamming the box on the hood of the car. "Take it," she yelled as she marched purposefully back to her own car.

"Lizzie," Red said, his heart aching knowing how much his admission had hurt her. She ignored him.

"Lizzie!" he pleaded once more.

She slammed her car door. He sensed, in that moment, that he had lost her. What had he done? He turned forlornly towards Dembe and then, out of nowhere, he was taken off his feet by an unmerciful blow to his chest. He landed heavily on the damp road and pain radiated through his body.

"No," Liz screamed when she saw him drop.

"Raymond," Dembe cried, realizing what had happened and rushing to his fallen friend's side.

"Dembe," Liz yelled as she jumped from her car to help.

Dembe was already pulling Reddington into the cover offered by their vehicle. Liz ran to where the two had taken shelter. She removed her pristine scarf from around her neck and used it to stem the blood flow from Reddington's chest. Dembe pulled the lock box from the hood of the car as another shot rang out. Both Dembe and Liz returned fire in the direction of the sound of further shots, but couldn't identify exactly from where they were coming. Red was barely conscious, grimacing in pain. Dembe and Elizabeth exchanged a worried glance.

"Reddington!" Liz cried as he choked on the blood filling his throat and lost his tenuous grip on consciousness.

She and Dembe continued to apply pressure on the wound, but knew they were fighting a losing battle. He was bleeding out. He needed a hospital and fast or he wasn't going to make it.

Liz tried to think clearly and remembered passing a hospital about half a dozen blocks from their current location. She shared this information with Dembe.

"No hospital. I have someone I can call to help him. He would not be happy to go to a hospital," Dembe told her.

"Look at him, Dembe. He's losing too much blood. We have to get him to an ER right now or we'll lose him," Liz insisted.

Dembe looked at his boss. The growing pool of blood beneath Reddington hastened his reluctant agreement with Agent Keen. He managed to raise him enough from the ground and drag him toward the back seat of the Mercedes. Liz scanned the roof tops but no more shots came. Between them they roughly bundled him into the car and with Dembe driving, sped in the direction of the hospital.

The journey was heart stopping for all concerned. Dembe ran every red light while Liz watched as the life blood of Raymond Reddington trickled through her fingers as he lay slumped in the back seat. Dembe pulled into the ambulance bay and Liz jumped from the car and ran inside, yelling for help and flashing her FBI credentials with bloodied hands. The medics were quick to react and rushed to her assistance. They hastily got Red out of the car and onto a gurney. They whisked him away before Liz could even give them any details of their new patient.

It all happened so fast that Keen soon found herself standing breathless and alone in the corridor, staring at a set of double doors to the main trauma room in the hospital. The medics had stopped her going any further. Her breathing began to regularize a little and she looked down at the blood on her trembling hands. Her stomach flipped and she only just managed to make it to a trash can on the corridor before unceremoniously evacuating the contents of her stomach.

"Elizabeth?"

She turned to see the usually strong and steadfast Dembe standing behind her, his emotions threatening to spill over. He looked scared and having seen her throw up, assumed the worst.

She composed herself a little and wiped her mouth in her sleeve.

"Is he alive?" he asked.

"I think so. They're working on him," she told him after taking a deep breath. "I need to make some calls….and clean up a bit," she said, showing him her blood-covered hands.

She left an anxious Dembe pacing the corridor, waiting for news and went into the ladies room. She quickly lathered up her hands with soap and vigorously scrubbed the blood from her hands. She stared into the basin and watched the pink suds disappear down the plug hole. Her chest felt tight and she took deep breaths to try and get more oxygen into her lungs. She felt panic before a surge of anger took over. Tears filled her eyes and she didn't know why. She was so mad at Reddington for what he had done to her, but she was also seething that this attack had happened to him. Her own emotions confused her considering that after all he had done, she still felt this huge loyalty towards him. At least that's what she called it. Loyalty.

No time to get all emotional right now though. She had important calls to make. She called her office and told them what had happened and where they were. She asked for a protective detail to be placed on Reddington and for agents to attend the scene of the shooting. She wanted to find whoever was responsible for this. Harold Cooper was shocked by the news and undertook to provide any assistance he could. Then unbeknownst to Agent Keen, he made a few calls of his own.

When Keen emerged from the ladies room, Dembe was still pacing.

"Anything?" she asked.

He shook his head.

"He would not want this," he said, hating the helpless feeling. "I should have called his people."

"If you hadn't brought him here, Dembe, he would be dead. You probably saved his life. I think he'll forgive you," she said, placing a comforting hand on the big man's shoulder.

Without warning, the doors of the trauma room sprung open and a gaggle of medical personnel emerged surrounding a patient on a gurney. Each was carefully engaged in their own particular life-saving role. Elizabeth Keen immediately recognized the shaved head and knew it was Reddington.

"Red?" she said, trying to see what was going on.

Dembe stood back and tried to remain calm.

"Where are you going? What's happening?" Keen asked as the procession rushed towards the elevators.

"You need to stay here. The doctor will speak to you in a moment," a nurse said as she hurried to call the lift.

Reluctantly, Agent Keen did as she was asked and stepped back. The doors of the trauma room were starting to close automatically, but not before she saw the horrifying scene which remained inside. She had never seen so much blood. It had pooled in one area of the floor and then scattered about were multiple sponges and empty saline and blood bags. She stared in shock before being brought out of her trance by the noise of the door opening once more and a doctor emerging.

"Is he one of your colleagues, Agent….?" he asked.

"Keen," she said, shaking his hand. "Eh, no, well, yes, sort of," she said stuttering. "How is he?"

"His condition is critical. The thoracic team is waiting for him in the OR. His next of kin should be informed as soon as possible," the doctor suggested. "There may be some difficult decisions ahead."

LiZ looked horrified as she digested the doctor's words. Next of kin?

"He….he doesn't really have anyone….," Elizabeth said, looking at Dembe, "...does he?"

Dembe looked at his shoes and shook his head. He knew of the existence of Red's daughter, but was pretty sure now was not the right time to mention her to Agent Keen.

"Okay, well there are some admittance forms that need to be filled. If you know anything of his medical history, it would be helpful," the doctor told them. "We don't even know his name."

"It's, eh, Raymond. Raymond Red...Redmond," she told him, struggling to come up with a functional pseudonym when put on the spot.

Dembe shot her a glare, knowing the alias was far too similar to his real identity. She ignored him.

"If you would like to wait, there is a family room on the surgical floor," the doctor advised. "You might be more comfortable there."

Agent Keen thanked him and decided to find the waiting area.

Dembe excused himself and found the hospital chapel. There he knelt, bowed his head and prayed for his brother.

**_To be continued..._**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Agent Keen waited anxiously in the family waiting room for news on Reddington. Her colleague, Donald Ressler, was one of the first of the FBI to call by. She quizzed him about what the agency was doing to investigate the attempt on Reddington. He told her that a team was on the scene and that they had found the sniper's perch. However, the shooter had policed their brass and left little trace. He also told her that the Assistant Director, Harold Cooper, was arranging around the clock protection for Reddington.

Meanwhile, behind the closed doors the hospital administration was receiving an unexpected visit from high ranking FBI and other agency representatives. They were putting in place emergency steps to protect their valuable asset, Mr. Reddington.

Hours passed and still no word on Reddington. Dembe had returned and joined Keen and Ressler in the waiting area. Finally, the surgeon entered the room and asked for the family of Raymond Redmond. They all stood nervously and Liz tried to get a read on the doctor's expression.

"Mr. Redmond was admitted with a severe gunshot wound to the upper right quadrant. He had lost a lot of blood when he got here. We operated to repair the damage to his lung but, unfortunately, Mr. Redmond suffered a cardiac arrest during surgery. I'm so sorry, but despite our best efforts we were unable to resuscitate him. He died on the table," he said with genuine regret.

"No," Agent Keen groaned in denial before her legs gave out.

Ressler managed to catch her and guide her to one of the seats. The doctor's words echoed in her mind. It couldn't be true. Red was dead?

"I would like to see him," Dembe asked, his voice trembling as he tried to control his grief.

"I understand, but because the FBI has deemed his death a murder and have ordered an autopsy, I cannot let you view the body until this has taken place. I am sorry," the doctor told him.

Dembe was not happy with that explanation. He wanted to see for himself that Raymond was indeed dead. He was suspicious by nature, especially having worked with Reddington for so long. He decided to keep his suspicions to himself for now. He accepted the doctor's explanation, for now, shook the doctor's hand, accepted his condolences and then sat back in one of the chairs.

He too was in denial. It was unfathomable to think the great Raymond Reddington dead. Dembe went through the events of the last few hours and tried to see how he could have prevented this.

He looked at Agent Keen who was sobbing and being comforted by Ressler. She looked up at him and reached and took his hand.

"I'm so sorry, Dembe. This is all my fault," she said, squeezing his hand.

"No, Elizabeth. Raymond loved you very much. It is I who failed him. It was my duty to protect him and I failed in my duty," he said with great sadness.

He stood to leave.

"Where are you going?" Liz asked him. "You shouldn't be alone at a time like this."

"I have to go," he said, without elaborating. She watched as he turned and disappeared through the door and was gone. She turned to Ressler.

"I can't believe Reddington's really gone," she said, wiping her tears. The shock had hit her hard.

"I know. He was the sort of guy you thought would live forever. I'm so sorry, Liz. C'mon. Let me take you home," he said, trying to do what was best for his friend. "There's nothing else we can do here."

"No, Don. I don't want to go back to that motel room. I don't want to be alone. Take me to the office. I'm going to find whoever did this," she said vehemently. "They cannot get away with it. I won't let them. I have that they…..the Fulcrum," she said, and as she said it realized that she didn't. Not anymore.

"Dembe."

"What?" Ressler asked, confused by her ramblings.

"He…..never mind. I'm fine. I just need to talk to Dembe," she said, rushing from the waiting room hoping to catch up with him. But her efforts were futile and she knew it. Dembe could disappear without even trying. Ressler had followed her down the corridor.

"What's going on?" he asked curiously.

"Oh, nothing. It's not important," she told him, lying.

"It sure seemed important."

"Sorry, I just remembered I'd left something in his car. I can get it later."

"C'mon, we should go," Ressler said, checking his phone. "Aram might have something."

Their journey to the office was a silent one. Word had filtered through that Reddington was dead. Sympathetic eyes followed Liz when she exited the elevator. Harold Cooper was one of the first to offer his condolences to Agent Keen.

"You should take a few days," he suggested. "You've been through a lot."

"No, thank you, Director. I'd rather keep busy and find who did this," she told him.

"That's understandable. Let's get to work. What have you got, Aram?" he asked the analyst.

"I examined traffic cam footage and various security footage from the area around the shooting and from adjacent buildings. I caught this guy coming out of the empty office block east of your position when the shooting happened," he said pointing to an individual wearing a baseball cap, dark pants and a hoodie. He was carrying a rucksack.

"I've following him on street cameras until he ducks down this alley and I assume gets into this car," he said, as a grey town car exits the alley. "We lose the car when it travels out of the city onto the 395 heading south. Local LEOs are on the look out. We might get lucky."

"Any chance of IDing him?" Keen asked.

"We don't get a good enough angle on him for facial recognition."

"What about the plates?"

"Stolen vehicle," Aram replied. "But we're following that lead. It may take us somewhere. This will take time."

Assistant Director Cooper remained relatively quiet, as if distracted. Amidst the discussion, he excused himself and returned to the sanctuary of his office. He made a call.

"What's the word?"

"He's critical, still unconscious."

"We need to move him to a more secure facility," Harold told him.

"We can't. Not yet at least. He's in no condition to be moved. It really is touch and go. The doctor's aren't sure he'll make it through the night," the voice on the other end told him.

"Damn. Ok. Keep me apprised."

Harold hung up and considered his options. His orders from above were to protect Reddington at all costs and keep him alive. His instinct was to move him, but if that killed him then it defeated the purpose. He hated what he had to do, especially keeping the truth from Agent Keen, but his orders were to make it known that Reddington was dead and to make it believable. In order to do that, only a select few people could know the truth. He and his superiors feared that they may have a mole in the organisation and it was imperative to keep Reddington's survival a secret.

He needed Agent Keen to be upset and angry so that this ruse would be believed. The people who knew of their close relationship would expect her to be upset, to mourn him, so this was how it had to be for the moment. It was the only way to guarantee his safety. He just hoped that someday she would forgive him.

Back at the hospital, a new patient was being settled into a private room in the CCU under the name of Ray Black. Oblivious to all the secrecy surrounding his identity and the drama of his arrival at the hospital, he was fighting a good fight. Doctor's remained hopeful. They were let believe that he was an FBI agent who had been wounded and that there was a chance that whoever had tried to kill him would try again, hence the burly security man standing outside his door.

Meanwhile, Dembe was contacting some of Red's people, namely Mr. Kaplan, and informing her of what had happened to Red. Initially upset, Mr. Kaplan was very insistent on seeing Red's body before believing that he was dead. Dembe explained that he too had requested such proof, but his request had been denied until an autopsy could be carried out. So Mr. Kaplan told him to leave it to her and she would find out what was going on.

_**To be continued...**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Early the next morning, Mr. Kaplan entered the hospital morgue. Her ID badge identified her as a locum M.E. and she went about her business pretty much undisturbed by the limited number of staff in work so early in the morning. There were only a few cleaning staff around. The morgue would not come to life until after 7am.

She found the office and easily used her IT expertise to access the records for the recently deceased. She could find no record of Raymond Reddington. Saying that, she wasn't surprised not to see his name, assuming that the FBI would have used an alias. So she noted the names of any males who had died the previous day. There were only a few. She then entered the cool room in order to carry out a visual check on the corpses to try identify her employer's body. To her relief, he wasn't among the recently deceased. If he had died, the FBI had no reason to move the body. It wouldn't make any sense. So she had to assume that Reddington was still alive. If he was, then where was he?

She was used to slipping unnoticed into different scenarios. Her unthreatening appearance meant people rarely gave her a second glance. Still clad in her white coat, she entered the main part of the hospital, smiling and nodding at staff as if she knew them and had every right to be there. From what Dembe had told her, if Red has survived the injury, he would be in a serious condition. So her options were the ICU or the CCU. She would need an access card to get in there. It would prove a little more difficult, but she had her own unique ways and means.

In the end, she managed to lift a swipe card from a nurse who she had followed into the staff canteen. She then hurried to the CCU before the nurse had noticed it was missing. She entered and didn't have to look for long when she spotted an armed man guarding one room. She couldn't get close enough to positively identify if it was Reddington, but she was pretty sure it was. This wasn't a large hospital. They wouldn't have high profile patients as the norm. She strolled past the glass-walled room and tried to see in. The guard saw her and gave her a suspicious look, but she smiled innocently at him and casually continued on by. All she could confirm was that the patient had a shaved head, but it was enough to convince her it was Red.

She noted the room number. There were other ways to find out for sure. She left the CCU, deliberately disposing of the pass in the elevator so that the nurse would think she had dropped it there. Then she made a call to another associate. Giving him the room number, he was able to apply his specialist skills and access hospital computerized records. He soon provided her with information about the patient, Ray Black, admitted suffering from a penetrating chest wound. It had to be Reddington.

For whatever reason, the FBI wanted it to appear that he had been killed. She understood why. They were being smart. He was a valuable asset to them after all. In other circumstances she would have agreed with the plan, but on this occasion she wasn't convinced. Reddington had told her enough about the people he was dealing with, the people he feared, and she knew that they would have no trouble seeing through the ruse of his demise. If she was able to find him so easily, if her hacker friend could figure it out, then so could they.

It was now time for her to earn her fee. She contacted Dembe and broke the good news. Needless to say, Dembe was very relieved and inquired about his condition. Mr. Kaplan explained that it was serious and asked him to prepare the safe house in Annapolis. She told him that she would send him a list of medical equipment to set up and where they were stored. Reddington had prepared for the inevitable day of a serious injury and had a garage full of medical equipment, a veritable field hospital, on standby at this home. Then she made another call and arranged for a doctor and a nurse who were on her payroll to come to the house in Annapolis. As soon as the safe house was ready, they would arrange for Reddington's transfer.

She wasn't the only one planning to move Reddington to more secure surroundings. The FBI had similar plans. Cooper's superiors were anxious to get their asset into a less penetrable hospital. As far as they were concerned, he was a sitting duck where he was.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth Keen was showering and getting ready for another day, but not any other day, her first day in a world without Raymond Reddington. Her eyes were puffy and red. She had barely slept at all that night. All she could think of was Reddington. Her dreams were haunted by the sight of him collapsing on the tarmac and choking on his own blood. Then there was the guilt; it gnawed at her. He stomach felt sick knowing that Red had died thinking she hated him. And in one sense she did, but then there had always been something that kept bringing her back to him, something that made her forgive his many transgressions, something about his presence that she needed. She had every right to hate him, but she just couldn't.

And now he was gone. The world felt a whole lot emptier, well her world at least. But she was determined to find justice for Red. She had to find who was responsible. She also wanted to find Dembe. She knew how upset he must be and wondered about his intentions now that he possessed the Fulcrum. She had tried calling him during the night but either he was ignoring her or he wanted to disappear. She also wanted to ask about arranging a service for Red. She felt he deserved a decent send off.

She gathered herself together, dried her hair and got dressed. By the time she was ready, Ressler was at her door to give her a ride so she could collect her car from the scene of yesterday's shooting. When she got to her car, she was transported back momentarily to the shooting. She remembered how angry she felt when she had turned her back on Red and left him standing in the roadway. She sat staring out of the windshield and recalled the moment he dropped to the ground like a stone. But there was nothing there now. Not even a blood stain. The rain during the night had seen to that. It was as if it had never happened. He was just gone.

For some reason, Tom flashed into her mind. She had said goodbye to him yesterday too, but the circumstances were very different. She wondered if he blamed Reddington for what had happened to them. She was pretty sure he did. Could he be angry enough to harm Red? Hardly. But then again...she had to know. She called the last number she had for him. To her surprise he answered.

"Liz? I didn't expect to hear from you again."

"I didn't expect I'd be calling you either."

"What's going on? Are you okay?" he asked.

"Not really," she said honestly. "Reddington's dead."

"What? Are you serious?"

"He was shot by a sniper yesterday," she told him.

"Oh, God, Liz, I'm sorry," he said, sounding genuinely sorry. "What do you need….?"

"Well, for starters, I was wondering if you shot him?" she asked outright.

"Me? Shoot Reddington? No. Look, Liz, I won't pretend I'm going to miss him, but I didn't kill him," Tom reassured her.

She wasn't sure whether to believe him or not. After all, she considered him a compulsive liar. She hoped he was telling the truth.

"Where are you now?" she asked.

"Still in DC. Going to be here for another few days. What can I do?" he asked.

"Your contacts, can you still trust them?" she asked.

"I don't know. Thanks to Reddington, I've made quite a few enemies lately."

"Can you see if there's any chatter in your world about the hit?" she asked. "Please, for me."

Tom melted at her plea. He loved her, always had. He resented the position Reddington had put him in and the price he had paid for being Red's pawn in whatever unscrupulous game he was playing. He used to see Liz as his one chance for happiness and then in a flash it was gone. But he still couldn't say no to her.

"I'll see what I can find out."

Liz thanked him and then continued on to work and spent the day following up the slim leads they had on the shooting. She could see they were getting nowhere.

Meanwhile Dembe was busy at the safe house in Annapolis. It was a beautiful old ranch style building, set behind high gates, nestled behind a grove of trees with a lake on one side and a tree-lined driveway on the other. He was transforming what was once the games room on the ground floor of the house into a hospital suite for his boss. The doctor and male nurse had already arrived and were unpacking their belongings in two of the seven bedrooms in the spectacular property. Pretty soon everything was ready.

He made another call to Mr. Kaplan.

"It is done."

"Good. My contact informs me that they will move him tomorrow morning. So we have to ensure we get there ahead of them. I'm working on the paperwork and the IDs. Get back to the city and wait for my call."

Harold Cooper paid a visit to the hospital that afternoon. He slipped in without any fuss and went to see Reddington. He had hoped to talk to him, but found him unconscious and unresponsive. He spoke to the senior nurse and she told him that he had stabilized and was breathing on his own. However, they weren't sure why he had not yet regained consciousness. His injury had been severe and he was not breathing when he was brought in, she told him. He may have suffered some oxygen deprivation as a result. Until he woke, they couldn't be sure.

Harold explained to her that he was to be moved to a specialist unit in a more secure hospital the following day. She told him that her superiors had already advised her of this and that everything would be ready.

Tomorrow would be a big day for Reddington.

To be continued...

_**A/n**_ \- thank you for reading and commenting. Can't wait for the next episode. Until then I'll keep myself amused with my version. More to come.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

A private ambulance pulled up outside St. Margaret's hospital first thing Friday morning. They were a little early so their patient had not yet been prepared for transport. The security guard had been lured away by an emergency call from his "wife". Of course, the call was a fake.

The patient's private physician was greeted by a hospital administrator and shown to the patient's room. She was a squirrely woman in her 50's wearing glasses. She chatted and apologised to the staff for being so early. She appeared relaxed, smiled and was glad to see her that her old friend Red was alive. He was breathing unaided, but had a nasal cannula providing him with a rich oxygen mix to keep his oxygen levels up. However, he looked ghastly pale. She held his hand and spoke to him, hoping that he would open his eyes. She was a little surprised that he didn't stir at her touch.

"Has he regained consciousness at all?" she asked sounding concerned. She took her penlight from the pocket of her white coat and shone it briefly in each eye. His pupils seemed to be reacting as you would expect.

"No, the doctor had hoped to carry out some neurological tests, but your director was anxious to transport him so we didn't have time," the administrator told her.

"That's okay. We'll take care of it," she said. "Do you have his chart ready?"

"Yes, it's in that envelope along with any personal effects he had when he was brought in," he said.

"Thank you," the physician said, watching as their male nurse and an orderly carefully moved the patient to the awaiting gurney. "We'll take it from here."

An oxygen tank and a bag of IV antibiotics and saline were attached to the gurney to make the journey with him. Soon they had him down at the ambulance bay ready for transport. The ambulance driver got out and opened the rear door of the ambulance and helped load the patient. He smiled at the physician. He felt so relieved. They had him back.

Mr. Kaplan, aka the physician, and the male nurse they had privately hired climbed in the back of the ambulance with Reddington. Dembe, the driver, secured the door and climbed back into the driver seat and quickly got them under way.

No one spoke until they were clear of the hospital and sure that they were not being followed.

"How is he?" Dembe asked, worried that his boss had not opened his eyes.

"He's stable, Dembe. He's lucky to be alive from what I read in the chart, but I am worried that he has not yet regained consciousness," Mr. Kaplan told him.

"He will wake when he is ready," Dembe told her confidently.

"I hope so," she replied, looking down at a very vulnerable Red Reddington.

They sped in the direction of Annapolis, careful to avoid tolls and as many cameras as possible. They stopped briefly in an old parking garage to remove the ambulance stickers and identifying marks from their vehicle. They needed to disappear and disappear they would.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth Keen was brushing her teeth when she was startled by a knock on her motel room door. She emerged from her bathroom grabbed her weapon from the nightstand and checked through the peephole. It was Tom. She opened the security chain and let him in.

"What are you doing here?" she asked crossly.

"I needed to see you," he replied.

"Tom, I told you not to come back," she said.

"I know but you did asked me to snoop around about a hit on Reddington. Can't have it both ways, Liz. I found out something. Rumour is that Reddington crossed a group of powerful men and they wanted rid of him," he told her.

"Who are these men?" Liz asked.

"I don't know exactly. No one seems to know, but my source told me that it was a professional hit. Someone from out of town," he continued.

"Do you know who?"

"No, not a clue. Just that he's a bit of a ghost. He does what he comes to do and vanishes."

"Someone must know him," Liz said with frustration.

"I'll keep asking around but there isn't much known about him," Tom told her.

Liz sighed. Her frustration was growing. She rubbed her brow.

"Are you all right?" Tom asked concerned for her.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just want to get the people responsible. Dembe has something that might help, but I haven't been able to reach him since...," she said, unable to vocalize that Reddington was dead.

"I'm sure he's just trying to deal with what happened in his own way. They were very close," Tom replied sensibly. "Well, I should get going."

Liz nodded in agreement.

"Tom," she said as he opened the door to leave. "Thanks."

Back at St. Margaret's hospital, there was somewhat of an air of confusion. The ambulance and medical team that the FBI had sent to transport Reddington had arrived and the FBI was in a panic when they discovered that their asset had already been moved. They were demanding to see the senior administrators and the paperwork used by the crew that took Reddington. Security was scurrying to get the CCTV footage from earlier that morning. This was a disaster. They had lost him.

Harold Cooper was in his office when the call came through to tell him that Reddington was gone. At first he thought it meant that he had died, but it was worse than that. He was furious to hear that he had been taken from under their noses. He wanted answers and fast. He knew it was his head on the chopping block if they didn't get him back. He was anxious to get to the hospital and look into this himself.

When Liz arrived at work, Cooper was rushing out. He didn't say a word but appeared even more stressed than usual when he rushed past her. She asked if everything was alright but he brushed her off.

Liz decided she wanted to see if the results of Reddington's autopsy were available. However, she was surprised to see that no results had been received as yet. She tried to reach Dembe once again. His phone was ringing, but he was not picking up. So she decided she would use the technology available at work to her own advantage. She roped Aram into helping her. Between them they pinged Dembe's cell phone to locate it.

"Looks like he's somewhere in Maryland, heading east on the John Hanson highway," Aram told her.

"What is he doing way out there?" she wondered.

Aram shrugged. "Taking a vacation?"

"Doubtful. Only one way to find out," Liz said, her instinctual need to have answers overpowering her. "I think I'll take that day Cooper suggested I take to deal with what happened. Keep this to yourself, Aram, until I know what's going on."

"Okay. Mum's the word," Aram said with a wink.

The high security gates closed automatically behind the ambulance after it pulled into the property at Annapolis. It drove up the winding driveway shrouded in trees to the imposing house that dominated the property. Dr. Lillis, former army field surgeon and practising physician, was waiting at the door and they soon had Red unloaded and settled into the make shift hospital room. He examined his new patient, ensured he was hooked up to the cardiac monitor, changed the IV bag and ensured that the O2 was flowing. He then examined Red's wounds more closely. He noted that he had suffered entry and exits wounds which would undoubtedly add to his collection of scars.

Mr. Kaplan and the doctor then held a long discussion about Red's condition. Dembe overheard the words such as coma, oxygen deprivation, brain injury, words that made him even more concerned for the man his considered his brother. But he had faith that his brother Raymond would recover. He had to believe in him. He brought a comfortable chair from the living room and placed it in the room where Red was lying. He was going to stay with his brother for as long as necessary. He would speak to him and do whatever it took to bring him back.

Dembe spent hours that afternoon talking to Red, recounting tales of their adventures on his home continent of Africa. He would at times hold Red's hand, other times stroke his head with affection or place his hand on his shoulder, hoping the touch would encourage his recovery.

To his delight, as evening fell, Red started to show some signs of awakening. At first he noticed a change in Raymond's breathing. It was subtle but definite. He reached for his hand once more and encouraged him to open his eyes. His heart leaped when he felt Raymond's fingers close around his hand. He called out to Dr. Lillis who was quick to the bedside. Mr. Kaplan entered the room, thinking something was wrong, but was relieved to discover that something positive was happening at last.

Red's eyelids felt leaden as he tried to pry them open. He had only recently become aware of the sound of a familiar voice speaking to him, but couldn't place it. He wanted to find out who it was. Then he felt a weight on his chest. Pain. Something was wrong. It hurt to breathe. His heart beat increased in speed as his stress level rose. He didn't know what had happened. Fear started to take hold.

Finally, he managed to get his eyes open. He shied away from the setting sun shining in through the large picture window that looked out over the boat dock. He blinked a few times and tried to focus. As his vision cleared, he recognised the smiling face watching him closely.

"Raymond, it's okay," Dembe said, hoping to comfort his friend. He could see that he was a little distressed. "You are going to be okay."

"Mr. Reddington," Dr. Lillis said, stepping into Red's line of vision. "I'm Doctor Lillis. I need you to relax for me. Okay? Just breathe normally," he said, placing the oxygen mask over his nose and mouth.

Red looked up at him, his eyes betraying the fear he felt. His mind was confused. He had no idea where he was or how he had got there. He looked around at the equipment and started to put two and two together.

He reached up with his left hand and removed the mask so he could speak.

"What happened?" he asked breathlessly.

"You were shot, Raymond," Dembe told him. "We moved you to the safe house earlier today. You should rest now and heal."

Red spotted Mr. Kaplan as she moved to close the blinds and darken the room for him. He tried to remember what had happened, but everything was muddled up.

"Lizzie," he said, slurring her name as his eyes threatened to close once more.

Dembe and Mr. Kaplan exchanged looks. The whole situation was complicated. There was no point worrying him over something he had no control over. They would have plenty of time to explain everything later.

"Raymond, you need to rest. Regain your strength," she said, coming to the head of the bed and stroking his head gently.

She signaled the doctor to administer the pain medication and light sedative that he had prepared. Red's breathing slowed, the pain he felt initially disappeared and soon his heavy lids drifted closed. He quickly fell into a restful sleep.

"He's going to need some time before he's back on his feet," Mr. Kaplan commented. "Dembe, you should get something to eat and then you should get some rest yourself. He'll need you more when he's better."

While reluctant to leave his brother, Dembe did as Mr. Kaplan suggested. He hadn't slept since Raymond had been shot. It was time to rest.

However, little did he know that on the highway leaving Washington, Agent Elizabeth Keen was following a phone signal to the Annapolis area, where she hoped to get some answers.

TBC...

**_A/N - thanks again to everyone reading and commenting. _**


	5. Chapter 5

**_A/n - Thanks to everyone who favorited and reviewed my story so far. Here's the next installment._**

Chapter 5

The journey to Annapolis took Agent Elizabeth Keen longer than expected thanks to an accident on the highway. However, the alone time gave her plenty of opportunity to contemplate what her future would hold without Reddington. She missed him already. He had died without giving her the answers she desperately needed and she wondered what to do with that.

She knew that in the immediate future she wanted the Fulcrum because she believed that this device held the answers to who killed Reddington. She wondered whether she should give it to Cooper or if it would be better to handle it herself. Maybe Tom would help her? She considered whether involving others would put them in danger. If these men, whoever they were, killed Reddington to get the Fulcrum, then they would in all likelihood come after whoever still had it. Getting her hands back on the Fulcrum and using it would open a huge can of worms, but she decided not to let that stop her on her quest for justice for Reddington. She felt like she owed him, yet couldn't put her finger on why.

It was late afternoon by the time she got to the picturesque town of Annapolis. She contacted Aram again, trying to see if he could narrow down the area where Dembe's cell phone signal was coming. She spent some time driving around town, trying to see if she could spot the car Dembe had been driving, but to no avail. Aram was eventually able to ping Keen's phone and give her a rough idea of his location in relation to where she currently was located. She headed north on his advice which took her out of town and into the countryside. She kept driving and only stopped when Aram called her back.

"You're practically on top of him," Aram told her sounding excited.

"There's nothing out here that I can see, Aram," she replied.

"Hold on," Aram said, and began typing furiously into his laptop. "Okay, I've brought up a local area map. There is a large property close by. Can you see a wood with a lake somewhere around you?"

Keen stepped out of the car and looked around a full 360 degrees.

"Yeah, I see some trees."

"Well, nestled in those trees is a large property. Looks like that's all there is out there. He has to be there," Aram decided.

"Well, I'll pay them a visit and see if he is," Keen replied.

She got back in the car and drove up a narrow road and into the wooded area. Then she came across "Private Property" signage. It didn't deter her. There, nicely nestled among large conifer trees, were two large pillars and ornate metal gates. A high, yet decorative stone wall spread for possibly one hundred meters from each pillar and the boundary continued some distance with a high wire security fence.

She stopped at the gate. She noted the security camera facing the driver side of the car and looked directly into it. Then she pressed the intercom button and waited.

Inside the property, Mr. Kaplan's eyes widened in surprise as she recognized the person on the TV screen in front of her. This was not in the plan. How the hell had she found them? She decided not to answer the ringing intercom. Instead she rushed upstairs to rouse Dembe who had only just retired upstairs to get some rest.

"Dembe, we have a problem?"

Dembe sat up quickly on the bed.

"Is it Raymond?" he asked anxiously.

"No, it's Agent Keen," Mr. Kaplan replied.

"Agent Keen?"

"She's here," Kaplan told him.

"Here?" he asked, sounding surprised. "Is she alone?"

"That is the question," Mr. Kaplan replied. "Find out."

"And if she is?"

"Get rid of her."

"And what if I can't?"

"Then I will have to deal with her?"

"Raymond would not want that. I will see what she wants," Dembe said, knowing what she was inferring.

Dembe hurried downstairs to the kitchen where the security screens and intercom were set up. He could see that Keen was now out of the car and considering her options for an illegal entry. He pressed the intercom button and called her name. He watched as she turned.

"Dembe? Is that you?" she asked, hurrying back to the intercom.

"Yes. What are you doing here?" he asked bluntly.

"We need to talk," she said.

"I have nothing to say," he replied.

"Dembe, I don't know what's going on with you, but we really should talk. Losing Reddington was hard for us both. He left a lot unsaid," she told him. "He died because of me. I know that's why you're angry and I don't blame you. If I'd given him the Fulcrum when he asked for it, this probably wouldn't have happened."

Dembe said nothing.

"Please, Dembe. Talk to me," she pleaded.

Dembe considered her request, mindful of his one duty in life, to protect Reddington. He thought of the man lying, so ill, in the next room and of his wishes. Her name was the first word on his lips when he regained consciousness so briefly earlier. As soon as he was strong enough, Dembe knew he would go back to her, whatever the risk to his own safety. Reddington's life was inextricably intertwined with Elizabeth Keen's. He had a very close bond with her, a bond even Dembe didn't fully understand.

"Dembe?" Keen repeated, wondering if he had left.

Then the gates began to open.

"Follow the driveway to the main house," he said. "I will meet you there."

Keen got into the car and drove to the impressive two-story house. She wondered who owned it, thinking it was maybe one of Reddingtons. She knew he kept several. Dembe met her on the front steps.

"Thank you for seeing me," she said as he led her into the reception area.

"Did you come alone?" he asked, as Liz admired the décor.

"Yes, actually. I was looking for you. I wanted to talk to you about the Fulcrum," she told him, getting straight to the point. "Do you still have it?"

"Yes," he replied. "How did you find me?"

"I work for the FBI, Dembe," she told him. "Tracing cell phones is child's play to my friends."

Dembe cursed his error. His phone was still on. That was an amateur mistake. He hadn't been thinking clearly since Raymond had been wounded. He would take care of that soon.

"Do they know you are here?" he asked.

"What? No, actually. I took some leave. Why? What's going on, Dembe? You're acting even stranger than usual," Keen said, trying to see through the different doors leading off the reception area.

"Come," he said, deciding there was no way he could keep their secret from her any longer.

She followed him into the former games room. From where they entered she first noticed the back of a hospital-style bed with drips and medical equipment surrounding the head of it. It was very out of place. Curious as to who was lying in the bed, she walked around to the front of the bed and could not believe her eyes. It was Reddington, looking grey in the face and breathing shallow as he slept, but very much alive.

"Oh, my God!" she could hardly breathe. "He's…..alive? How? I don't understand," she said, coming closer to Red and reaching to touch his hand.

"They tried to take him from me. I could not let that happen," Dembe told her seriously.

"Who? I thought he died," Liz told him. "You were there".

"That was what we were meant to think," Dembe explained. "You, the FBI, I do not know who exactly."

"I knew nothing of this, Dembe. I've been tearing myself apart trying to find who killed him," she told him.

"I want to believe you, Agent Keen. But right now I have to concentrate on protecting Raymond. If your being here is going to put him in danger, I have to prevent this," he told her. "It would be better if you left. They might follow you here and if that happens, it will place him in even more danger."

"No, I can help," Liz told him. "Here, take my cell &amp; my weapon. No one knows I'm here," she said, deliberately omitting the fact that Aram had guided her there in the first place. "I can help you keep him alive. Please, Dembe, you can trust me."

Dembe considered her offer. From the corner of his eye he could see Mr. Kaplan coming through the door. He look on her face was not a happy one.

"Okay. You can stay but only because he was asking for you earlier," he told Keen.

"How is he?" she asked, not even trying to mask her concern as she placed the palm of her hand on his forehead.

"He is still quite ill," Mr. Kaplan told her as she approached the bed.

Keen was not surprised to see her there. They had met before. She knew she was the person who helped Reddington out of difficult situations. This was one of his most difficult.

"Wouldn't it be better if he was in a hospital?" Keen asked naively.

"We have a private surgeon and nurse with him around the clock. As you can see, we also have the necessary equipment and medication. Here we can keep him safe," she told her.

"Can you though? I mean, will they come for him, whoever did this?" she asked.

"It is inevitable that they will figure out that the FBI was lying about his death. When they do, you can guarantee that they will move mountains to find him. When that happens, we hope he will be strong enough to be moved out of the country. But these men will come after him no matter where he is. What worries me more is that I know Raymond Reddington and he will want to fight back," Mr. Kaplan told her.

"I can help you protect him. The FBI can help," Keen told her.

"I'm not so sure we can trust the FBI anymore," Dembe told her.

"Why?"

"A feeling," he replied.

"Well, you can trust me," Keen promised.

As their discussion continued, no one noticed that the patient had woken. He lay there and stared up at Keen, wondering if he was dreaming or if she was really there.

"Lizzie?" he said weakly.

Keen almost jumped out of her skin upon hearing his voice.

"Reddington," she said, smiling down at him and taking his hand.

His dark blue eyes bore into hers and then started to tear up.

"I'm sorry, Lizzie," he said, his struggle for breath evident in his speech.

"Sshh, don't talk," she told him, squeezing his hand. "You need to get better."

"Stay," he said, his heavy eyelids threatening to close once more. He had never felt so weak.

"I'll stick around, if that's ok?" she said, looking at Dembe and Mr. Kaplan for agreement.

"Stay…am sorry," he said, even softer than before as his body relaxed.

"Ssshh," she said, comforting him as he lay there so vulnerable.

She had never seen him so helpless. It scared her immensely. It was such an emotional reunion for her. Finding out he was alive was exhilarating, but seeing him so weak scared her. In this weakened state, he was a soft target. He couldn't protect himself, so he would have to depend on those around him.

She looked at Dembe and Mr. Kaplan and was glad that Red had people to watch out for him. And now he had her. She would do everything in her power to get him back on his feet and strong enough to take on the people who put him here.

To be continued...

A/N - so excited about tonight's episode. How sad am I? But the last three weeks of not knowing have been torture. Love this show to bits!


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/n - Sorry about the delay in getting this chapter up. I've fallen a bit behind in this story. Thanks for sticking with me.**_

**Chapter 6**

The FBI was closely examining the hospital footage from earlier that morning. They were unable to identify any of the people who had entered the hospital and taken Reddington. However, from external camera's they were able to identify Dembe in the ambulance bay, despite his efforts to disguise himself. Harold Cooper wasn't sure whether to be glad Reddington was with someone who was loyal to him or to worry that their actions could potentially kill the man.

The medical staff had made it clear that Reddington was seriously wounded and could still suffer any number of complications as a result of his wound. Cooper feared that despite what he assumed were Dembe's good intentions, he could unwittingly end up harming his boss if he didn't see to it that he received proper medical attention. Now Cooper had to explain to his superiors that Reddington had been taken from under their noses and then come clean with his team that Reddington was still alive and had been taken from protective custody.

And, of course, he needed to tell Agent Keen.

Following a lengthy meeting of agency and political collaborators who were in the inner circle of the mission to conceal Reddington, Cooper returned to the office and explained to his agents what had happened. He asked that they put aside their surprise and personal feelings and get to work trying to trace the ambulance that took Reddington. He turned to Ressler and asked if he knew where Agent Keen was. He had already tried to call her from his office, but had been unable to reach her.

Ressler informed Cooper that Aram had told him that Keen decided to take a few days to help her deal with all that had happened. Cooper asked him to check her motel and see if she was there. He felt so guilty knowing that Keen was mourning the man he knew to be alive.

But over an hour later, when Ressler got back, he didn't have Keen with him. Cooper tried her cell again but it was going straight to voice mail. Fearing for her safety, he asked Aram to trace her cell. Aram was between two minds what to do. He had given Keen a commitment not to divulge her whereabouts. He knew roughly where she was but wasn't going to let on until he heard from her again. He believed Keen was acting in Reddington's best interests and despite being completely intimidated by Reddington, he actually liked him. He knew he was jeopardising his job by not informing his boss immediately, but he had promised Keen.

However, he would do his job as required and if that led the agency to Annapolis, then so be it. He tried to trace Keen's phone and was surprised when it was untraceable. She must have switched it off he presumed.

"What about her vehicle?" Cooper asked, knowing that FBI vehicles had GPS locators on board.

Aram was about to try it when a pop up on his terminal screen warned him of a security breech. Aram's fingers typed frenetically to try and ward of the cyberattack. Cooper and Ressler watched, perplexed momentarily, wondering what Aram was doing before realizing the issue.

"What is it?" Cooper asked.

"We have a breech," Aram told him without taking his eyes off the screen. "I'm invoking the security protocol and trying to block the hack, but they're good. I might not be able to stop it."

"Can you do a back trace?"

Cooper yelled at another analyst to start a back trace on the hack. It was critical that they did not lose any data, especially anything pertaining to Reddington.

The attack only lasted a couple of minutes and then it was over. The back trace had been unsuccessful, but there had been no way of knowing what had been lost. It would take time to find out.

Meanwhile, in Annapolis, night had fallen. Elizabeth insisted on staying in the room with Reddington. The doctor was close by at all times. Elizabeth asked how he was doing.

"He's stable," Dr. Lillis told her. "His sats are within an acceptable range. Considering what he's been through, he's doing remarkably well, but his recovery will take some time."

Liz was curious and asked him how he knew Reddington.

"I was an army medic stationed in Panama in the eighties. He was a lieutenant junior grade and he had been wounded in action and flown to our base for treatment. He was good guy, a bit green and naïve, but smart as a tack. He always says that I saved his life, but in truth, he wasn't as badly wounded as he thought," Lillis told her. "We kept in touch for a while. Then he disappeared and I didn't hear from him for years. He needed help one day and he called me. By then he was a wanted man, but to me he was still the young officer I knew. I helped him and I guess we reconnected."

Liz looked at the sleeping figure and imagined him as a young naval lieutenant, no doubt as dapper and suave as he is now. She was lost in her musings when she saw an armed figure pass by the picture window. She jumped and reached for her weapon instinctively, forgetting that she had surrendered it to Dembe.

Dr. Lillis saw her reaction and spoke up to reassure her.

"It's just the security team doing a patrol. Pretty OTT, eh?"

"Sure," Keen said, relieved to see that Dembe had a security patrol on the property. Most definitely not over the top, she thought.

"If you're hungry, the kitchen is through there," he said, pointing to the door across the hall. "The refrigerator is fully stocked."

"Thanks," she said, realizing that she hadn't eaten all day. "I might just grab a sandwich."

Behind closed doors, Dembe and Mr. Kaplan were having a heated discussion in the study.

"You should not have allowed her to stay," Mr. Kaplan said crossly.

"Raymond would want her here," Dembe said in his defence.

"Maybe, but it could cost him his life," Mr. Kaplan said, sensing danger. "What if she was followed? Have you checked her car? Maybe there's a tracker on it? I will prepare an alternative safe house. I have to consider that this one has been compromised."

"We will be safe here for a while," Dembe replied.

"Not for long. This group have eyes and ears everywhere. It won't take them long to find him," she insisted.

"He needs to rest," Dembe reminded her.

"We will see how he is in the morning. Then I will make other arrangements," Mr. Kaplan replied.

Dembe left the study, briefly checked on Raymond who was sleeping and appeared comfortable and then went into the kitchen. There he found Elizabeth making a sandwich.

"Are you hungry?" she asked him.

"A little," he admitted.

"Here," she said, handing him her sandwich and taking out two more slices of bread to make another.

"Thank you," he said, taking the plate.

"Tell me, Dembe," Liz began. "How did you know he was still alive?"

"It was strange. I always imagined I would feel an emptiness when he was gone. I did not feel empty," he explained. "It is difficult to explain. Then when they would not let me see his body, my suspicions were aroused. I called Kaplan. I should have insisted on doing that when he had been shot. No matter, we found him and she devised a plan to take him back."

"I don't understand why Cooper would lie to me," Keen said, sounding hurt at the betrayal.

"I'm sure he thought it was for the best. But I also have a duty to do what I think is right for Raymond. He is safe here. He will get better and then he will finish this," Dembe told her.

"What do you mean?"

"The Fulcrum will take down the people who did this to him. He will know how and when to use it," Dembe told her.

They continued to chat and eat. Eventually Dembe agreed to let Elizabeth sit with Reddington for the rest of the night. He tried to sleep, but had a restless night. His gut was telling him something was going to happen. He found himself pacing from room to room, checking windows and doors, making sure everything was ok.

During the night, Elizabeth, who was dozing in an armchair, was woken by the semi-whispered conversation of the male nurse, Danny, and Dr. Lillis.

"What's going on?" she asked, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

"Red's temperature had risen slightly during the last few hours. I'm a little concerned that he may be fighting an infection," Lillis told her.

"Can you treat it?"

"He's already on a cocktail of antibiotics. I've checked the wound and it doesn't appear inflamed. It's nothing to worry about at this stage. I'll keep a close watch on him," he told her.

Liz sat up and pulled the chair closer to Red's bed. She knew she wouldn't get back to sleep. She was worried. It didn't help that Reddington wasn't in a hospital. She wanted to have faith in Lillis but she didn't know what kind of experience he had. She rested her hand on Red's arm. He didn't feel overly warm. His complexion had pinked up a little though. She had assumed that was a good thing. His breathing was a little easier.

As she sat there, Mr. Kaplan reappeared in her night gown. She marched to the bed and gently placed the back of her hand on Red's forehead.

"The doctor said he has a slight fever," Liz told her.

"I know. I spoke to him. I had to check on him myself. Doesn't seem too bad," she said, turning to Liz. "If he's stable enough in the morning, we will have to move him again."

"Move him? But why? He's hardly strong enough," Liz told her.

"Why? Because you turned up," Mr. Kaplan snapped. "Do you have any idea the danger you put him in by coming here?"

"I didn't even know he was alive. I was looking for Dembe. Putting him in danger is the last thing I want to do," Liz replied defensively.

"Well, whether you meant to or not, you did. People will be looking for you. They're already looking for him. You were probably seen in town. It won't take long for them to trace you to here," she explained.

Liz contemplated the situation. Maybe she should leave and say nothing about finding him. Go back to work in a day or two. It was obviously what Mr. Kaplan wanted her to do, but in her heart Liz wanted to stay with Reddington. She was so angry with him following his admission the previous day and yet now she felt totally consumed with keeping him safe. She still had questions, she still felt betrayed by his actions but whatever it was about him, she was just drawn to him.

She remembered the awful feeling, the emptiness, when she believed he was dead. Her eyes fell on the sleeping figure. In her mind, he needed her as much as she needed him. His actions, however questionable, had always been with her protection in mind. He had proved that to her countless times when he had come to her rescue. Now he was in trouble. Whatever Mr. Kaplan thought, he needed her.

"Fine. Where are we going?" Liz asked, a little cheekily.

Mr. Kaplan sighed.

"I will make arrangements," she said, not giving away anything. She turned and left without another word.

Liz took Red's hand and whispered:

"I'm not going anywhere."

To be continued...

**_A/N - please excuse the literary licence I've taken regarding Red's naval career. Can't claim to know much about his past. But let's just roll with it for now. _**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

In the early hours of the morning Red woke with a start from a nightmare. He was breathing hard and his heart felt like it was bursting out of his chest. The unfamiliar surroundings in the dim light were confusing for him. He felt groggy and confused because of the pain meds and his confusion left him a little panicked.

His sudden return to consciousness startled Agent Keen. She had been resting back on the armchair when she heard the grunt that came with his waking. She jumped to her feet anxious to comfort him.

"Reddington, it's okay. You're okay," she said, stepping into his field of vision.

"Lizzie?" he said, wide-eyed as he stared up at her. His breathing began to regularise.

"Shush. You're doing well," she told him, resting her hand on his shoulder. "You're going to be okay."

"Where…. am I?" he asked, squinting at his surroundings.

"Annapolis," she told him. "Nice house actually. Is it yours?"

"Annapolis? Ah, yes...belongs to a good friend of mine," he told her, realizing where he was. "Chap hardly uses it. Lets me store this ...," he said, gesturing to the medical equipment surrounding him.

"Do you remember what happened?" she asked him.

"Yes. I made you angry. I hurt you, that's why... I was surprised to see you here. You must let me explain," Red said, shifting slightly on the bed to try and get comfortable. The slightest movement sent shock reminders of his recent wound and he grimaced. His breathing was still laboured which was not surprising considering the seriousness his injury.

"I don't want to listen to excuses. Not after everything that's happened," Liz told him. "You interfered in my life in the most heinous way imaginable. You let me fall in love with an imposter. That was just cruel...even by your standards."

The vehemence of her words sliced through him just as easily as the bullet that had pierced his chest.

"It wasn't meant to happen like that... He was supposed to protect you...not... marry you. The only reason I revealed myself to you was….. after he had taken it too far. I was...trying to protect you from my past and ended up having to protect you from him. I made an ... unconscionable error in judgement, Lizzie. It was… inexcusable but I had to try and make it right," Red told her, his voice shaking slightly and his eyes beginning to droop. His weakness was evident. "I'm sorry, Lizzie. I just..."

He desperately wanted to explain himself but his thoughts were jumbled. The drugs were interfering with his train of thought. As he tried to talk, she could see the desperation in his face. She found herself feeling sorry for him instead of being angry with him.

"I know," she said, squeezing his hand. "We can talk when you're a bit stronger. You had better rest or I'll have Mr. Kaplan and the doctor on my back."

Red smiled weakly.

"You always were a good girl, Lizzie," he slurred, his eyes already closed.

She gently stroked his head until she was sure he had drifted back to sleep. His forehead felt a little warm but there was no fever.

He slept comfortable through until the next morning. Activity around the house began early. Dembe and Mr. Kaplan were overseeing the preparations for another move. Elizabeth was being kept out of the loop. She was curious and watched the goings on.

Red was a little stronger having rested and was managing to stay awake for longer periods. The head of his bed had been raised a little more and he was sitting more upright. However, he remained very weak. Lillis continued to keep a close eye on his temperature and his sats.

"How am I doing, Doc?" Red asked as Lillis administered an antibiotic injection into his IV line early the next morning.

"Better. How do you feel?"

"Like I've been hit by a bus," Red replied with a hint of a smile.

"This was your closest one yet," Lillis told him leading Keen to believe that this was not the first time Reddington had availed of his services.

"I like to keep you on your toes," Red told him with a twinkle in his eye.

"I know they want to move you. I've told them I don't think it's a good idea but they're insistent, so I'm going with you. Have to keep an eye on you for a few more days," he explained.

"I'll be fine," Red insisted. "You should go back to Julie and the kids. Don't want her mad at me."

"I will, once I'm sure you're following doctor's orders. Now rest up. They're loading up the van. I'll travel with you. How's your pain? I can give you something to help you sleep if you'd like," Lillis offered.

"I'm good. That concoction of yours is dulling my mind. I can't think straight. If it gets worse I'll tell you," Red promised.

"Okay. Keep an eye on him, Elizabeth. If you think he's in discomfort, come and tell me," he asked.

Liz nodded and her eyes met Reddington's. He took as deep breath as his pain threshold would allow and released it.

"You need to go," he said to her. "They'll be coming for me."

"I'm not leaving," Liz insisted. "You're in no shape to defend yourself."

"I have Dembe and a team of security. I'll be fine," he insisted.

"I know you will, but I'm still staying."

"Lizzie, I've put you in enough danger. I was selfish. I should have never...you should go while you can. Go back to your life. Forget about me, forget about the Fulcrum, forget it all. Please, I need to know you'll be safe," he told her,

"My life? I don't even know what my life is anymore. All I know is that you are most definitely part of it now. I'm not leaving you when you need me the most," she told him.

"Why?" he asked, confused at her insistence at being with him. A couple of days ago she hated every fibre of his being. He would never forget the look on her face when he told her that he had brought Tom into her life and the feeling when he realized how much his lies had hurt her. He knew she was still resentful of his actions and she had every right to be. Why on earth would she care about him?

"Because….I don't know. I thought I'd lost you. Despite all the misery you've cause, I grieved for you. I can't explain it," she said, fussing with the blanket that was over his legs and torso. "We need to get you ready. Are you warm enough? It's cold outside," she said changing the subject.

"I'm fine," he said, reaching for her hand, causing her to stop what she was doing and engage with him. Her eyes met his and they held each other's gaze, searching each other's souls.

It was Elizabeth who broke the moment.

"I'll get you another blanket," she said, removing her hand quickly from his grasp and leaving the room.

Red sank back into the pillows and stared out the picture window that looked out over the lake. He knew he loved Elizabeth, probably more than he should, and that was why he protected her with every ounce of his energy. But he questioned whether his love for her was going to ultimately get her killed. He had to ensure that didn't happen.

It wasn't long before Dembe and Dr. Lillis came in and started to unhook some of the equipment. Once everything was ready, they loaded Reddington into the ambulance which was now looked like a work truck, with Devoy's Boat Decking and Repairs sprayed on the side.

Dembe drove with Agent Keen beside him up front. Dr. Lillis rode in the back with Reddington. Mr. Kaplan drove separately in another car, accompanied by the nurse and two armed security men. Their drive was a short one. Liz was surprised when they drove back through Annapolis and out towards Port Annapolis Marina. Little did they know that as they were entering the marina, a convoy of black SUVs containing federal officers were descending on the property they had just vacated. By some miracle, they had just missed them.

She looked curiously at Dembe when he drove almost to the side of the jetty and stopped the truck.

"Here?" she asked.

"Yes, we are here," Dembe said as he opened the door and alighted the vehicle. "Come, we must move quickly."

Liz watched as two men approached them from a yacht with was berthed at the jetty. Their military manner made her nervous, but as they neared Dembe was calm and opened the rear of the truck. The men helped him move Reddington's stretcher out of the truck, down along the jetty and onto the yacht with haste. The doctor followed.

"Are you sure it is safe here?" she asked Dembe, as she looked around and noticed the day-to-day activity of the marina. There were plenty of people coming and going.

"Here? No. Out there," he said, gesturing towards the open sea, "he will be safer."

"I'm not sure that it's a good idea," Liz told him.

"You do not have to come with us, Elizabeth. I will keep him safe," Dembe promised while making it clear that she had no obligation to Reddington. She could walk away whenever she wanted.

"No, I'll come. I need to be with him," she told him as she boarded the impressive vessel.

"You will not be able to contact your agency, for security reasons," he reminded her.

"I know. I understand," she said as she checked out her new location.

It was not your ordinary run of the mill boat. It stood at least 100 ft long with a pristine white and royal blue livery on the hull. She walked through the spacious lower outer deck area and followed the stretcher through a corridor into the master suite. It looked like an expensive hotel room. If she wasn't so uneasy, she would have been impressed by the luxury.

Dr. Lillis and the male nurse helped settle Reddington into the bed and ensured he was comfortable. The journey, while short, had taken its toll on him and he was obviously very tired.

Mr. Kaplan entered the cabin and told Reddington that she would be taking care of things on the mainland while he and his security team went off shore. Red thanked her and promised to be in touch as soon as he was strong enough. To Liz's surprise she kissed Reddington on the forehead with great affection and it was the first time she had seen Mr. Kaplan as a human being. Reddington smiled as his eyes drooped once more.

Dr. Lillis advised everyone that his patient needed to rest and gave everyone their marching orders. Mr. Kaplan left the yacht without another word. Dembe stood guard at Reddington's door. Lizzie took the opportunity to explore the vessel. As she climbed to the upper deck she was a little surprised to see military grade weapons and boxes of ammunition being covered by a tarp by one of the armed security. She gave them a nod and an uncomfortable smile. Well, at least they were prepared for a battle, she thought.

Back at the property outside Annapolis, the feds were searching the house and surrounding out buildings. The presence of hospital grade medical equipment and medications led them to believe that Reddington had indeed been treated there. When they found Agent Keen's truck hidden in the boat house, it gave them a clearer picture of what was going on. They now knew that Keen had found Reddington, and wondered whether she had known he was alive all along and was part of the operation to snatch him from the hospital.

Cooper was livid. Ressler was merely confused. Keen had seemed genuinely distraught when she had been told Reddington was dead. He found it hard to think she knew he was alive the whole time. Yet, the proof was here. She had obviously spent time in this house, knew he was alive now and yet had never contacted him or her agency. It didn't look good.

If only he knew that as he stood there, perplexed by Keen's actions, that she was on board a luxury yacht heading out into the Chesapeake Bay destination God know's where.

To be continued...

A/N - thanks for all the interest in this story. Keep reading and of course reviewing.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

The yacht carrying Reddington and Keen was heading south off the coast of North Carolina. The captain, Montoya, was a former sailor with the Armada de Mexico and was a capable seaman and soldier.

Keen sat on the upper deck and looked out at the setting sun. She wrapped her arms around her to keep herself warm. She realised that she only had the clothes she stood up in and didn't have a warm jacket. One of the security guys, a man named Wilcox, joined her on the deck. He told her that when Mr. Kaplan had called them to action, she had given them a list of items to acquire for their trip including ladies clothing. He showed her to a one berth cabin where they had been stored. She thanked him and closed the door.

She opened the bags and found jeans, a sweat pants, t-shirts, a fleece jacket, even underwear and a pair of sneakers and they were all pretty much her size. Mr. Kaplan had even thought of toiletries. Keen took the opportunity to have a shower and freshen up. By the time she was finished, her stomach was rumbling. She realised that she hadn't eaten since breakfast.

She dressed in the sweats and sneakers and headed to the galley. She found a fully stocked fridge and cupboards of dried foods. She decided that she would cook up a pot of spaghetti knowing that no one else had eaten either. When she was in the middle of making dinner, Dr. Lillis came into the galley.

"Thought I smelled something good," he said, leaning over the pot on the stove and taking a sniff.

"Well, you might not think so after you tried it. I'm not the best cook," she admitted. "How's Reddington?"

"He's doing remarkably well," he told her. "He's anxious to get out of bed and get up and about but I'm still a little concerned about his breathing. He might just need some time so I told him he could get up tomorrow," Lillis told her.

"I'm sure the sea air will help him, Doctor," Keen replied.

"It's Matt. You can call me Matt. So, how do you know, Red?" Lillis asked, curious having witnessed the strained relationship between the two over the last few days.

"He didn't tell you?"

"No, he'll only tell you what he wants you to know," Lillis told her.

"Tell me about it," Keen said, plating up a large bowl of spaghetti for the doctor. "Well, the truth is I'm an FBI agent and Reddington surrendered himself to me, I guess, a couple years back."

She could see the stunned look on Lillis' face.

"Really?" he asked.

"Yes, Matt. Really," she said with a smile.

"Ohhh kay," he said, deciding not to pry any further. He began to worry about his less than legal position at the moment, providing medical care to a fugitive wouldn't exactly be encouraged by the medical board.

Keen could see his demeanor change and could guess why.

"Don't worry, I'm not here to bust anyone," she said, trying to put him at ease. "We're on the same side."

"Just so you know I'm not on anyone's side. I'm just here to help a friend," he said, anxious to make that clear.

"Me too," she said, tucking into her meal.

They ate and chatted some more until Matt decided to get some sleep.

Before retiring to her cabin that night, she went to check on Reddington. He was in a deep sleep and appeared comfortable.

"How's he doing?" she asked Chris, the nurse that was with him.

"He'll sleep for a while now," he told her. "I gave him some morphine an hour ago so he'll be out for a while."

She noticed that he was back on oxygen.

"I thought he didn't need that anymore," she said, referring to the nasal cannula.

"Matt's a little worried about his breathing. It's a little labored so a little hit of O2 won't do any harm," he explained.

"Should I be worried?" she asked, already worried.

"No, not at the moment. I'll keep an eye on him," Chris promised.

Elizabeth approached the bed and leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on Reddington's forehead. She whispered "goodnight" before retiring to her cabin herself.

It didn't take long for Lizzie to get to sleep. She had no idea how tired she was until her head hit the pillow. The movement of the boat rocked her to sleep. When she woke, the sun was shining brightly in through the porthole. She pulled on a t-shirt and sweat pants and went down the corridor to the master cabin to check on Reddington. To her surprise, the room was empty. Her heart beat sped up involuntarily and panic gripped her chest.

She ran out of the room and down the short corridor to the outer deck. There was no sign of him. She clambered up the steps to the upper deck and much to her relief he was sitting there on a deck chair looking relaxed. He sat a little hunched and had a blanket around his shoulders to keep the breeze off him. He greeted her with a big grin on his face.

"Lizzie! You're up. Have some breakfast. Dembe makes the most delicious eggs."

Liz looked a little perplexed. In front of him, there was a table laid with fresh fruit, orange juice, toast and a plate of eggs. However, it didn't look like he had actually eaten anything.

"Should you be up?" she asked, taking the chair beside him.

"I couldn't possibly stay in bed another moment," he said, shifting a little in the chair beside her. "Smell that air," he said, taking as deep a breath as his injured chest would allow. "I've always loved the sea. Makes you realize that you're only a speck of dust on this vast earth. How insignificant we are."

He seemed in good form. He was obviously sore but was putting on a brave face.

"I'm glad to see you feeling better," she said, putting her hand on his knee. He rested his hand on hers and gave a gentle squeeze. He knew she had worried about him and felt blessed that she still cared after all he had put her through.

"You should eat something," he said.

She poured some orange juice and helped herself to some fruit.

"Did you eat anything?" she asked, looking at his almost untouched plate.

"My appetite has yet to return," he said, taking a sip from a cup of tea.

"So, where are we heading?" she asked, hoping to find out what was his plan.

"Dembe said we're following the coast heading south. As I told you, Lizzie, they'll be coming for me, for us. It's impossible to predict when, but at least out here, we'll see them coming and we'll be ready," he told her.

He stifled a slight cough and his forehead creased and his eyes closed from the jolt of pain it brought.

"Are you okay?" Lizzie asked with concern.

He nodded eventually opening his eyes.

"I don't recommend coughing after you've been shot in the chest," he joked as he steadied his breath and coped with the pain.

She smiled, relieved at his joviality. She ate and had some tea with him. Then she started to clear over the plates and met with Matt in the galley.

"He has a cough," she told him.

"I noticed," he said, pouring some coffee from the pot. "It might just be a little fluid on his lung or it could be something else. I've no way of knowing without an ultrasound."

"Okay, so we need to get him to a hospital. Where's the nearest one?" she asked.

"I've already suggested a detour to Charleston to him, but he's not having any of it. He insists he's feeling fine," Matt told her.

"Stubborn son of a …..," Lizzie muttered. "If he gets any worse, we're heading for land."

Matt agreed that was what should be done, but didn't hold out much hope of actually happening.

Meanwhile, in Langley, Virginia, the Director was on a call. Kenneth Jasper was on the other end of the line.

"We've made our play now, Jasper. Didn't work out as planned. He should be dead, but instead we don't know where he is and we've pissed him off. There's nothing more dangerous than Red Reddington on the war path," the Director told him.

"Don't worry too much about that, Director. I'm working on it. Our source tells me he spent the last few days in Annapolis. They don't have eyes on him yet, but he can't be far. He's been shot. According to the source, it was a critical wound so he won't be too much of a bother, not for a while yet," Jasper explained.

"I wouldn't count on that, Kenneth. It's a mistake to count this man down," the Director told him.

"He's only a man, Director, and now a wounded man. We'll get him while he's licking his wounds," Kenneth assured him.

On the yacht, all was quiet. Reddington had returned to bed for a while, the couple of hours up and about had drained him. Lizzie was quite enjoying the relaxation and tried not to over think their situation. Maybe they were going to be okay. She wanted to call Ressler. She knew he'd be worried about her. But she knew the dangers of drawing attention to herself and ultimately to Reddington.

And she was right. Ressler was more than worried. He had learned to trust Reddington, but now, with Keen missing, his trust was waning. He was starting to wonder if Keen had been taken against her will. Going under the radar was not typical of Agent Keen. Crime scene techs had found her cell phone in one of the upstairs rooms. He couldn't imagine her deliberately leaving it. But he knew of her loyalty to Reddington. Maybe he had convinced her to go on the run with him.

Cooper burst in as he was contemplating what was going on.

"Ressler, I want you and Navabi to head to Port Annapolis Marina. Local inquiries have thrown up something. A boat owner told local LEO's that he saw a man being carried on a stretcher onto a boat yesterday," Cooper told him.

"You think it was Reddington?"

"Makes sense. I want you to look into it," Cooper told him.

Not surprisingly, it didn't take long for the mole to get wind of the latest development. A call was placed to the Jasper. He was excited to think that they were closing in on Reddington. His people were able to make inquiries with the harbour master and got a list of vessels that left port the previous day.

They had a lead. The Suijin, a large Canadian registered motor yacht left port before midday the previous day. It had logged its destination as Portland, Maine. The destination was more than likely bogus he realized, but they had ways and means of locating the vessel.

He called the Director back with the latest.

"Get it done," was the instruction he received. "We can't be sure he has the fulcrum. If he has it, it's probably with him. Make sure it doesn't surface, even if he does."

By evening, Dr. Lillis appeared even more worried about Reddington. He was clammy, increasingly short of breath and was bringing up pink mucus when he coughed. Matt confided in Keen that he suspected that Reddington had a blood clot on his lung.

"Can you do anything to treat it?" she asked.

"I have an anticoagulant, Warfarin, which should help dissolve it. I'll give him the shot and see if his condition improves," he told her.

"Ok, do that. Should we head for land?" she asked.

"Not yet. This should improve his condition. If he gets any worse, then we might have no choice," the doctor told her.

Keen sighed. They could have done without post-operative complications. She knew Matt was doing everything he could for Red, however, his hands were tied. Without the necessary equipment he as only guessing. She didn't like that they were rolling the dice taking a gamble with Red's health.

But for now, that was all they could do. Wait and wonder.

To be continued...


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

The Atlantic was calm as the Suijin continued southwards. Temperatures had dropped and the sky had clouded over. Dembe stood a lonely figure at the bow of the vessel staring out at the horizon. He appeared on alert watching the darkening sky when Keen approached him.

"Nice evening," she said, with a view to starting a conversation.

"The calm before the storm," Dembe said cryptically.

"Is something bothering you, Dembe?" she asked.

"Over the last few hours I have been hearing a small aircraft in the distance. It may be nothing, but it could mean we have been identified. If we have, we must be prepared," he told Keen.

"We will be, but I will need my weapon back," she told him.

"It is in the lock box at the helm. Montoya has the key," he told her.

Together they climbed the steps to the bridge. Montoya appeared relaxed, the yacht was on auto-pilot and he was watching a TV show on his IPad. He stood up when the two of them joined him.

"Is everything ok?" he asked.

"We may have a problem. I've been hearing low flying aircraft activity over the last few hours. It could be a spotter plane. If we've been discovered, they'll send a team. Agent Keen will need her side arm," Dembe told him. "I will alert the rest of the team. I want everyone on stand-by. Montoya, keep a close watch on the radar. If any vessels change course or get close, alert me immediately."

"No problem. I've got this," he said, handing Keen her weapon. He then removed a shoulder holster and a Beretta from the lock box and strapped it onto his body. "The automatics are in the box on deck two."

Dembe and Keen left the bridge and called the two security team members to the second deck area where Dembe handed them each an Uzi sub-machine gun and clips of ammunition. They were each given a radio, ballistics vests and ordered to opposite ends of the yacht to keep watch. Dembe then took Dr. Lillis and Nurse Chris aside and made them aware of the situation. He gave them a hand gun and radio to keep with them at all times. He asked them not to worry Reddington until he was sure there was a problem.

Keen decided that it would be best if she stayed close to Reddington and if anything happened she would do what she could to protect him. She entered the cabin where he was sleeping. She took a chair and kept her radio turned down low so as not to disturb him if it came to life.

As evening turned to night, the weather worsened and the rain came. Keen listened to the rain hitting the deck above her and to the sound of the persistent drumming she eventually dozed. She was jolted awake as Reddington woke, racked with a fit of coughing. Chris, who had also stayed with him, and Keen, jumped to his assistance. The pain in his chest was severe and the sputum he brought up was blood tinged. Once the coughing passed, Chris placed an oxygen mask over his face and directed him to breathe normally.

Reddington held the mask and took the oxygen gratefully. As he settled, he noticed that Lizzie was carrying her weapon. The he saw another hand gun on the dressing table which held the medication.

"Are they coming?" he asked, suspecting something had changed.

Keen and Chris exchanged a glance and Keen decided to tell him. Keen nodded. Reddington removed the oxygen mask and threw the sheets off him and gingerly turned to throw his legs out of the bed. He grunted in pain as his legs hit the floor and he tried to put his weight on them.

"What do you think you're doing?" Chris asked.

"I'm a sitting duck lying here," he said. "If I'm to meet my maker tonight, then it will be on my own terms."

"No one's meeting anyone," Keen said, glaring at him. "Get back into bed."

Reddington stubbornly sat on the edge and made no effort to get back in. The nurse started to draw some pain meds into a syringe with the intention to administering it to Reddington who was obviously still in pain.

"No more pharmaceuticals," he said, refusing the opportunity to dull his pain.

"It will help with the pain," Chris told him.

"No it won't. It will slow me down," Reddington told him. "I can't think straight with that stuff inside me. I can cope with the pain."

Chris looked at Keen for support, but it didn't come.

"Fine, no meds then if he doesn't want them," Keen said, "but you need to stay here until we know more. The team is on watch on deck. If they see anything, they will radio us and then we move. Until then save your strength. You're going to need it."

Chris helped Reddington get his legs back onto the bed. He insisted on sitting upright and on having a hand gun on the bed beside him.

Upstairs, Dembe and Montoya watched the radar. Every so often, a vessel would come into range, appear on screen for a few minutes and then disappear. What was suspicious was that they seemed to be keeping pace with them. Dembe sensed an attack was imminent. He wasn't wrong.

The sea grew rougher and visibility grew poor.

Everything remained quiet for a few more hours until close to 2am in the morning when one of the guards alerted the others to the sound of an approaching small craft. He was sure he could hear an outboard motor buzzing somewhere in the mist. The other's strained to hear it, but it was definitely there. It had begun.

Dembe radioed below. Keen responded. Reddington took one last deep breath of oxygen then threw the mask aside and asked to be helped to his feet.

"Put this on," Keen said, handing him a vest.

Chris helped him put it on but it was painful as it irritated his wound. He was starting to regret not taking the pain medication after all. Keen and the nurse secured their ballistics vests as well. They were ready.

"You good?" Keen asked Red.

He nodded, trying to hide his discomfort, and made it to the cabin door. His unsteadiness was disguised by the rise and fall of the vessel in the rough conditions. Then he heard something outside.

"Did you hear that?" he asked and Liz and Chris stopped.

Keen heard it, a scraping on the outside of the hull. She peeked out the tiny porthole and could see a dark figure in a wet suit attaching something.

"Shit," she said, hurrying to Reddington and taking his arm, guiding him out of the cabin and down the corridor towards the outer deck.

"What is it?" Reddington asked as he held his aching chest.

"Explosives, I imagine," she said, trying to sound calmer than she was.

That was when they heard the first volley of shots. Keen stopped Reddington from going outside onto the deck until she had checked it. Just as she did, a head appeared over the side to climb on board. With a quick reaction, she took a head shot and dispensed of him. Reddington leaned against the wall in the corridor, partly supported by Chris.

Another burst of automatic fire resonated in the night. They took cover. Liz watched another man climb on board from an unseen boat alongside. She was preparing to fire upon him when he fell to the deck mortally wounded. Dembe had gotten to him first. He ran to where they took cover.

"Try get him to the RIB," he said, hoping that they would get off the boat safely. "There are more coming."

"Dembe," Red said, locking eyes with his friend. Their exchange said more than any words could.

Dembe, armed with the automatic weapon, checked the area above them. More shots could be heard coming from the upper deck of the boat along with the sound of shattering glass. He directed them to the back of the boat while keeping watch. Then without warning, they were thrown off their feet by an explosion that ripped a hole in the bow of the yacht.

Dembe was quickly to his feet and raced up the steps to the upper deck, leaving Reddington, Keen and Chris to pick themselves up. Reddington reached up to the side of the boat and was painfully pulling himself to his feet when a wet suit clad gunman appeared at the top of the opposite stairs. He recognized Reddington as his target and took aim. Chris saw the danger and threw himself into Reddington knocking him overboard as the shots rattled from the automatic weapon. Keen reacted to the shots and fired, taking the gunman down, but was too slow to avoid the catastrophe.

Chris took several bullets to his vest, but also one in his neck that left him bleeding out on the deck. Keen tried to help him, but knew there was little she would be able to do. Only then did she realise that Reddington was gone. She called out his name as she looked into the murky depths but couldn't see him.

She ran to the back of the boat and untied the RIB and pushed it away from the Suijin who was already starting to list.

"Reddington!" she called out, hoping he would respond but nothing came.

It was impossibly dark. The only light on offer came from the yacht, but she was drifting away from it. He couldn't be that far away, she thought. She studied the movement of the water for a minute or two and then saw something that looked anomalous about 20 feet away.

If she used the motor they would hear her, so she tied the line around her shoulder and jumped into the water. She swam towards the anomaly and as she neared she could see that it was Reddington, floating face down in the water. Seeing him like that terrified her. He wasn't moving. When she reached him, she turned him face up immediately and grabbed him by the chin to keep his head out of the water. He was heavy. The weight of the ballistics vest he wore didn't help. She had to undo it before pulling the RIB closer. With difficulty, she eventually managed. She turned his face slightly towards hers and forced air into his lungs. Nothing happened.

She had to figure out how to get him onto the RIB. Unconscious, he was just dead weight.

"Reddington!" she called, slapping him on the face, trying to rouse him. She breathed several more breaths into his lungs.

Finally, he began to cough and splutter. He opened his eyes, disorientated and confused. Then realising where he was, he panicked a little and tried to grab at Keen. She pulled his arms off her and put them onto the RIB and ordered him to hold on while she climbed in.

It was difficult in the rough conditions to climb on board the small craft. It took a few attempts before she was able to pull herself up. Then catching her breath, she leaned over to help Red, but to her horror he was slipping down beneath the surface. She just managed to reach him in time and grab the collar of his shirt and yank him back up.

"Oh, no you don't," she said, trying to hang on to him. "Come on, Red. I can't do this myself," she yelled, encouraging him.

"Leave me," he said weakly.

"After all this? Are you kidding me? Get in," she ordered crossly, as he clung to the side of the RIB. She leaned over the side and reached lower and grabbed the waistband of his pants and, using all her strength, hauled him unceremoniously over the side.

He cried out in pain as he landed in the bottom of the RIB. He started to cough and choke, bringing up water from his stomach and lungs. Liz came to his aid and held him.

"I've got you," she said, comforting him. He trembled in her arms.

His nose was bleeding heavily and his chest was on fire. After a few minutes, he regained his breath slightly. He battled hard to stave off the black spots that danced before his eyes.

"Where's Dembe?" he asked, when he was finally able to hold his head up, he managed to look around. Then he realised that he could not see the boat.

"I'm not sure," Keen told him. "Last I saw, he was on the boat."

"I don't see it," Red said, looking out into the dark.

"Over this side," Elizabeth told him, pointing to the orange glow in the distance. "It's on fire."

"Start up the motor. They need our help," he said, not thinking straight, and reaching for the starter chord.

"No, don't," she said, removing his hand from the starter. "They might hear us. We don't know where they are," she said, referring to their attackers.

Red considered what she said and realised she was right. By now he was slumped against the edge of the small craft and shivering violently. Liz searched the boat for anything that could help them. She found a box containing a first aid kit, a flare gun, an LED flashlight, some protein bars, a couple of bottles of water and some heat reflective emergency blankets.

She opened the emergency blanket packs and wrapped one around Red's shoulders and the other she tucked around his torso. He released a shaky breath. She used some gauze from the first aid kit to try and stem the blood from Red's nose. There seemed to be a lot of blood which concerned her. She remembered Matt giving Red the anticoagulant which would explain the profuse bleeding.

"Keep your head back," she told him, as she held the gauze to his nose.

"Are they dead? Dembe? Matt?" he asked seriously.

"I'm sure they're ok," Keen said, trying to reassure him. "Now, head back."

They bobbed in the ocean for a while and Liz watched the glow of their yacht diminish before it disappeared completely. Red was drifting in and out of consciousness which had her worried. She tried to get him to take some sips of water, but there was little else she could do for him in their current predicament.

She wanted to take the RIB back towards where they last saw the boat to see if there was anyone in the water. But she was scared in case their attackers were still there. She scanned the horizon for lights or any sign of another vessel. She saw none, so after a while, she started up the outboard motor. The sound of it coming to life jolted Red back awake for a few minutes. But he barely had the strength to raise his head.

No witty banter. No reassuring quips. He was quiet which was unsettling to her.

Slowly, Liz piloted the RIB to where she had last seen the Suijin. There was some flotsam in the water and Liz had to assume that she had gone down. She hoped to find survivors in the water.

"Dembe!" she yelled, her voice drowned out by the increasing wind. "Matt!"

She was reluctant to use the flashlight in case it brought unwanted attention. She steered around the floating debris and found a body, face down in the water. From the clothing she identified it as Montoya. She could see that he had been shot. She continued on searching but to no avail.

Reddington coughed roughly once more, shattering the eerie silence. It was obvious that he was struggling. Liz hadn't the heart to tell him that she couldn't find Dembe. She sat back down and tried to think about what to do next.

It was dark. She had no idea which in which direction the coast was. Until the sun rose and she could get her bearings, she had no choice but to sit tight. She killed the engine, hoping to conserve the fuel. He removed her shirt and squeezed the sea water from it. She moved closer to Reddington, positioning her body close to his to try and preserve their body heat.

He was freezing. His shirt soaking wet. She thought if she took it off him and wrung it out it might dry a little in the night air. She began to button it down when his hand came up in a weak attempt to stop her.

"What ….are you….doing?" he panted.

"You're freezing. I have to warm you up," she told him, kneeling in front of him.

He hadn't the strength to fight her. Carefully she removed the shirt. The dressing covering his gunshot wound was coming off. She removed it completely. The surgical wound was oozing blood and looked red raw. She reached for the first aid kit again. She cleaned the wound as best she could with the limited supplies. She dried it and covered it with one of the adhesive dressings as he watched her intently with drooping eyes.

She covered him back up with the survival blanket. Then she sat down beside him with the intention of placing her body between him and the side of the boat so she could use her body heat to warm him up. But when she got behind him she noticed the scarring on his back for the first time, scarring from what were obviously once serious burns.

She looked at the scar her own hand and had to wonder. When Luther Braxton was trying to get her to remember her past, she had a memory of Reddington being in the burning house. But her memories were muddled. She couldn't be sure of his role in the whole traumatic event. She remembered someone on the floor and the flames getting closer. She thought that it was her father she saw dying in the flames. Could it have been Red?

Then she remembered running, hiding and the smoke getting worse, the flames, the heat. And then a hand, a strong but gentle hand guiding her to safety. She remembered very little after that. In her muddled mind she had assumed that Red had killed her father. Had he in fact saved her?

A violent shiver ripped through his body. She pulled him close to her chest. He relaxed against her body. She felt every pained breath he took. It was as if she could feel him weakening in her arms. Their situation was dire. She couldn't lose him like this.

She closed her eyes and prayed for a miracle.

_To be continued..._

**_A/N - thanks again to everyone who continues to read my story. Only another chapter or two to go. _**


	10. Chapter 10

_**A/N - apologies for the delay in getting this update to you. A few too many distractions at home lately. Thanks for sticking with me though. **_

**Chapter 10**

Agent Keen had dozed off as they bobbed up and down in the vastness that was the ocean. Something woke her. She looked around and wondered what had disturbed her but saw nothing in the darkness.

Then she heard Reddington muttering some slurred, fever-driven words.

"Kate…..no…..Masha….."

The names meant nothing to Keen, assuming they were just the ramblings of a delirious man. But of more concern to her at that moment was Reddington's condition. She put the bottle of water to his lips and tried to get him to take a sip, but he was barely conscious and uncooperative. She tucked the survival blanket more securely around him and held him even tighter and wondered who Kate was.

"It's okay, Red. Just hold on," she pleaded with tears in her eyes.

"Masha?"

"No, Red, it's me. Lizzie. I got you," she said, feeling completely helpless. Tears of frustration trailed down her cheeks.

Reddington had stopped shivering, she noticed. She couldn't be sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. She looked skywards. The rain had stopped and the clouds were clearing. It would be light soon. She decided to rest some more, closing her eyes for another few minutes or so it seemed. However, she fell back asleep, her energy completely drained by the events of that night.

It was the noise that first woke her, quickly followed by the down draft from the propellers overhead. She panicked at first, thinking they were in danger, that they had been found by the Director and his men. But to her relief, as she considered her and Red's impending death, a Coast Guard swimmer leaped from the helicopter hovering over them and landed, feet first, in the sea about 20 meters away.

Liz tried to rouse Reddington to tell him that they had been rescued, but he just toppled to one side when she shifted her position. She scrambled to her knees in sheer panic and desperately tried to find his pulse. Her hands were numb from the cold making it difficult.

"Help," she yelled, waving frantically at the approaching swimmer. "I can't feel his pulse."

The swimmer reached them quickly and deftly pulled himself on board the tiny craft. Liz was holding Reddington's limp body and pleading with him not to die.

"Help him," she begged. "Please."

The swimmer removed his goggles and gloves and felt for Red's carotid pulse. He held his fingers in position for several seconds until he was certain.

"He's alive," he told her. "His pulse is weak, but it's there. Is he injured?" he asked, seeing the blood covered shirt thrown on the floor of the raft. He removed the survival blanket and checked him.

"He was shot….five days ago," Liz told him.

The swimmer looked surprised and no doubt wanted to ask what the hell anyone who had been shot only days previously was doing out at sea, but he hadn't time. He had to get the two victims onto the rescue helicopter and try to stabilise the male patient.

He signalled to the spotter in the helicopter to lower the winch. He told Liz that she would go up first**. **

"No, take him. I'm fine," she told him.

"No, you need to do as I say, Miss. You're up first," the swimmer told her, as he grabbed for the safety harness that dangled close to the boat.

He strapped her in then told her to inform the winch man to lower the basket the next time. He signalled for her to be winched.

Liz was carefully hauled into the hovering aircraft by the winch man. As she was being unharnessed, she recognised Dr. Lillis, sitting at the back of the craft. She glanced to her right and to her delight saw Dembe propped up on his elbows on a stretcher on one side of the craft, straining to see who had been lifted in. There was a sheen of perspiration on his brow, a heavy bandage wrapped around his thigh and an IV going into his arm.

"Elizabeth," he said, glad to see her yet there was an pained tinge to his voice. "Raymond?" he asked, afraid of the answer.

Liz didn't know what to say to him. In a situation like this there was no point hiding the truth.

"He's alive," she told him as one of the crew placed a blanket around her shoulders. "But he's not in good shape. Are you okay?" she asked, looking at the heavy bandage.

"I will be," he told her.

They waited for several minutes until eventually the winch man hauled the swimmer and the basket holding Reddington into the helicopter. Liz was placed on a seat beside Matt while the coast guard medic tended to Reddington. He secured him to a berth and quickly hung an IV line and placed him on oxygen. He appeared very concerned for him.

Dembe lay on one side of the helicopter cabin while Red lay on the other. Dembe could not take his eyes off his boss who was oblivious to his presence.

Liz tried to hear what the medic was saying but with the noise of the rotors she couldn't. He was closely examining Red's chest. Then the medic approached. She heard him tell Matt that Reddington's lung had collapsed and that he was in respiratory distress. Matt unbuckled his safety belt and hurried to Red's side. He could see the bluish tinge on his lips and his grey pallor. He wasn't getting enough oxygen. He would have to insert a chest tube. The conditions were far from ideal but the medics did have the equipment which helped.

Matt got to work. He administered a local anaesthetic to numb the area then made a small incision between Reddington's ribs. The procedure was complete within a couple of minutes. Red's breathing improved almost instantly.

Liz had watched the whole procedure, praying for its success. Once Red's condition improved, Matt returned to his seat for the rest of the journey.

"Is he going to be okay?" Liz asked, unable to mask her fear for him.

"It's hard to tell what's going on with him. He could be bleeding internally again. His breathing is pretty bad," he told her.

"Will he make it?"

"He's a tough one," he told her. "I wouldn't count him out just yet."

The rescue flight continued towards Charleston, the nearest city.

Liz struck up a conversation with the swimmer who was strapped into a jump seat to her left.

"I've been meaning to ask…how did you find us?" she asked.

"Your friends managed to issue a distress signal before your boat went down. You were lucky they did. They also had a beacon on their life raft. Once we found them, they insisted we keep looking for you. You were lucky we found you so soon because we were running low on fuel," the swimmer told her.

"We sure were. I don't think he would have survived much longer," Keen told him.

"Probably not."

The flight to Charleston City Hospital took almost 40 minutes. Reddington was whisked away to the trauma room for examination as soon as they landed. Dembe was taken to the ER to have his wound assessed. Liz and Matt followed to the ER where medics insisted they were also checked out.

Once given the all clear, Matt called his family. Keen decided she should call Cooper. She knew she would be in a hell of a lot of trouble for going it alone, but she knew that they now needed the FBI's help and protection. They were vulnerable in this hospital, especially if the wrong people heard of their survival and rescue.

She used the public phone in the ER to make the call. Cooper picked up and was more than surprised to hear Agent Keen's voice.

"Agent Keen? Where are you?" he asked. "You have some explaining to do."

"I know and I will, but right now we need your help. There was another attempt on Reddington's life while we were on his yacht."

"Yacht?"

"It's a long story but right now we're at Charleston City Hospital. Reddington's not doing so good and Dembe's been shot. We could do with some protection down here," she told him.

"What? You mean Reddington doesn't have another team lined up to come to the rescue?" Cooper asked sounding peeved.

"Not this time," she replied, sensing his annoyance.

"Fine. I'll send a team," Cooper told her. "Local PD will provide protection until we get there. We will move him to a more secure location as soon as he is well enough."

"Thank you, Cooper," she said grateful for his understanding.

Keen then waited anxiously to hear how Reddington was doing. Eventually, one of the doctor's came out to speak to her.

"He's stable at the moment but he's battling aspiration pneumonia and an underlying infection that has weakened him significantly. We've moved him to the ICU to keep a close watch on him. He's sedated and we've intubated him because of his compromised respiratory system. His oxygenation is low and this way we can better control his levels," he told her.

"Is he going to be okay?" she asked.

"The next 24 hours are critical but, if there are no further complications, he should recover in time," he told her.

Following some treatment, Dembe was transferred to the OR where he had a bullet removed from his leg.

Liz spent the next few hours going from the ICU to Dembe's room. She was with Dembe when he came around after the surgery.

"Elizabeth?" he said, surprised to see her at his bedside. She could see his face change when he assumed that the reason she was sitting with him was that something had happened to Reddington. "Is it Raymond?" he asked, fearing the worst.

"What? No. He's stable. I just didn't want you to wake up alone," she told him.

"That is kind of you," he said, genuinely touched that she would be so considerate towards him. "But I would feel better if I knew you were watching over Raymond."

"It's okay. He's sleeping," she told him. "Matt's with him. He'll be leaving soon to catch a train home. He wanted to say goodbye. I'll tell him you're awake."

"Dembe, before I go, I need to know one thing," Keen said, before leaving the room. "The Fulcrum. Is it gone? Did it go down with the boat?"

"It was never on the boat," he told her.

"So Red still has it?"

"An associate is keeping it safe until he decides what to do with it," Dembe told her.

"My fear is if whoever attacked the boat finds out that Reddington survived, they will come for him again. We need to use the Fulcrum to take them down," she told him.

"I agree," he replied. "But it is not my decision. Only Raymond can make that decision."

"But he's in no position to do so, not yet," she argued.

"It is unfortunate," Dembe replied. "But I will not make a decision until I know Raymond wishes it."

Liz felt frustrated. She wanted to protect Reddington but felt her hands were tied. She returned to the ICU and remained with Red. Matt bid her goodbye. He had to return to his life. He was only gone when there was a gentle tap against the glass door of the ICU room. It was Harold Cooper.

"Sir," she said, standing up.

"Agent Keen," he said as he entered. "How is he?"

"He's stable," she told him. "They have him sedated so that he won't fight the breathing tube."

"And you? Are you alright?"

"Me? I'm fine," she replied. "Just tired."

"Well, you can stand down now, Agent Keen," he told her. "I have agents assigned on a round the clock detail until he is well enough to be moved to a more secure location. Agent Ressler is waiting for you at the Charles Motel. He'll debrief you and then you can get some rest. We can talk later."

"I'd rather not leave him," she told him.

"I'll sit with him if it makes you feel any better," Cooper offered. "If there's any change I'll call you."

Reluctantly, Liz agreed. She needed a shower and a change of clothes. Another agent drove her to the motel where she met with Agent Ressler and Agent Navabi. They spoke for a while, Keen trying to convince them that she had no idea Reddington was alive when she left the post office days ago. Convincing them that she stayed under the radar for his security was more difficult to explain. But because they trusted her, they accepted that she had her reasons.

She was obviously exhausted so they let her rest. She slept soundly that evening and through the night. She woke early the next morning and was anxious to get to the hospital to check on Red. To her disappointment, his condition hadn't changed. She looked in on Dembe who was sitting out on a chair and preparing to be released.

"I would like to see Raymond, but they will not let me pass security," he told her.

"Don't worry," she reassured him. "Come with me. I'll make sure you are let in."

Using crutches, he followed her to the ICU. The agent on duty was reluctant but when Cooper came over ruled him, he had no choice but to let Dembe through.

"He is still not awake?" he asked, obviously concerned by this.

"He has been sedated, Dembe," Keen told him. "Reddintgon's lungs are weak and they are trying to give them time to heal," she explained. "The machine is helping him."

"It is difficult seeing him like this," Dembe admitted.

"I know, but he is going to get better," she told him.

"I cannot protect him like this," Dembe told her, looking down at his own injury.

"Without you, he would be dead already," she reminded him. "Back on that boat, you saved us, and getting us rescued, you saved us again. Let us help you now. My people will help."

This made Dembe feel uncomfortable. Having to relinquish control to the FBI was unsettling but Agent Keen had proven that she would do anything to protect Reddington so he knew he could trust her.

"Keep him safe."

"No one will get to him, Dembe. You go with Agent Navabi to the motel and rest up. He will need you strong as he recovers," Keen told him. "I'll call you when he wakes."

Dembe placed the palm of his hand on Red's forehead and whispered a prayer before bidding him goodbye.

Keen sat with Reddington for most of that day, only leaving to use the bathroom and get some food. Cooper and Ressler sat with her for short period during the day. The nurse kept a close eye on their patient and the doctor stopped by during his rounds. He reassured Elizabeth that Reddington was stable and his condition was improving.

He decided that it would be pertinent to hold the sedation and let the patient wake up. To avoid stressing the patient, he removed the breathing tube and placed a nasal canula under his nose and secured it behind his ears just to make sure he was getting enough oxygen.

Now all Keen had to do was wait.

To be continued...

_**A/N - again, apologies for my lack of medical knowledge. All mistakes are mine alone.**_


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

When he woke, Red glanced around nervously unsure of where he was. The light was dim, but the sterile smell was unmistakable. He was in a hospital. He wondered how long he had been there. The last thing he remembered was being on a small boat, being cold and Lizzie. God, where was she?

He shifted slightly in the bed, sending pain shooting across his chest and catching his breath. He coughed slightly and was startled when a head popped up into his line of vision.

It was Lizzie. He hadn't seen her sitting there. She had been resting her head on the edge of the bed when he coughed and woke her.

"Red? You're awake," she said straightening up.

"Lizzie…..where are we?" he asked, sounding concerned.

"It's ok. You're in the hospital," she told him.

"I can see that, Elizabeth, but where?" he snapped which surprised her.

"Charleston," she replied, slightly put out by his less than pleasant demeanour.

He considered her answer for a moment. His brain felt fuzzy and yet a sense of unease prevailed. He knew there was something he was forgetting. Liz noticed the grimace as he tried to remember.

"Are you okay? Do you need me to get the nurse?" she asked assuming he was in pain.

"No, I need Dembe. Where is Dembe?" he asked.

"He's not here, Red," she told him, placing her hand on his in an attempt to put him at ease.

"Is he dead?" he asked assuming the worst.

"No, he's fine. Well, he was wounded, but he was released from here earlier today. He's resting at a motel with Ressler and Agent Navabi," Liz told him.

"I need to speak to him," Reddington said, getting agitated and starting to cough again. "Please, Lizzie, it's important."

"Okay, relax. It's 5am. He'll be sleeping. Just calm down. You have pneumonia, Red. The doctor said you need to rest so you'll recover quicker," she told him. "I'll phone Ressler and get him here later this morning."

"They're coming, Lizzie," he said ominously as she left the room to make the call.

Red steadied his breathing and took inventory of his aches and pains. He twisted painfully around and checked what was in the bags hanging on the IV stand. Antibiotics and saline, nothing he couldn't survive without if he had to leave in a hurry.

His biggest problem was that he felt as weak as a kitten. He knew he probably wouldn't get very far without help. He would have to be patient. He closed his eyes and consciously tried to relax. Liz returned after a short while.

"They'll be here in a few hours," she told him.

"Fine, but I don't know what time I have," he replied. "They failed in their attempts to kill me, thankfully, but I'm more dangerous to them now than ever, a wounded animal, so to speak. They may think it kinder to put me down, but it's time to hit back, Lizzie," he said before another rough cough took his breath away.

Liz knew what he meant. It was time to use the Fulcrum.

"You're in no shape to do anything right now, Red. Just relax. I'll get Dembe here for you and you can make whatever little plan you have to," Liz told him as she reached for the cup of water and held the straw to his mouth.

Red looked at her intensely as he sipped the water and realised that he hadn't even asked if she had been hurt during their ordeal at sea.

"I'm sorry, Lizzie. I'm just…..distracted. I never asked if you were okay," he said, once he had finished drinking.

"I'm fine," she said. "I thought I was going to lose you. It was a close one, Red."

"Not the first brush with death I've had," he admitted trying to lighten the mood somewhat.

"Yeah, well they're getting a bit too frequent if you ask me," she said with a wry smile.

Red returned her smile and rested his head back against the pillow. He had to agree with her. He wondered how much longer he would survive in this life that had chosen him.

Liz sat back down beside him. She had something on her mind. She wanted to bring it up, but wasn't sure how. There was a lull in conversation as Liz considered the best approach. She knew what Red was like. Getting information was like getting blood from a stone. But she would never get answers if she didn't ask.

"When we were out there, on the boat, I saw the scars," she said sheepishly, "….on your back. They're burns."

He rolled his head on the pillow to face her and sighed deeply. He looked disappointed and yet strangely relieved. She had managed to peel another layer from their mysterious connection. How much longer could he protect her from the truth?

"Lizzie," he began to say before she cut him short.

"I know you were there, Red. The time with Dr. Orchard, I remembered you there. So, before you start concocting some far-fetched story, can't you just tell me the truth? Would it kill you?" she asked in frustration.

He paused and looked in her pleading eyes. Dembe had been encouraging him to tell her. Maybe it was time?

"Yes, I was there, purely by chance as it happened. I wasn't supposed to be there. I had argued with your mother earlier that day and came around to the house to apologize. When I got there the house was on fire," he told her. He pinched his eyes shut as he remembered. "Your mother was outside screaming that you were still inside, begging me to find you. I managed to get inside and found you hiding in a closet," he told her.

"I remember flashes of that night," Liz said. "I remember the flames. I remember taking a hand and being led away but I always thought my dad came back for me," she told him, reaching again for his hand.

"Your dad was already dead when I got there," he told her, his eyes moistening as his mind drifted back. He was also trying to conceal a truth that he didn't think she needed to know. "You were so scared. I can still feel your tiny hand in mine. You held on so tightly."

"I don't remember very much after that," she told him.

"The fire had really taken hold. The heat was immense. The smoke …"

"Choking. I remember choking," she said.

"Yes. I covered you with my coat and carried you. We were almost out when part of the ceiling collapsed on us. We fell. I remember pain, then I think I blacked out briefly and woke with you pulling me and screaming at me to get up. You burned your hand helping to get the burning ceiling pieces off me. I managed to get up and we made it out. That's it," Red said, cutting the story short.

"That's it?" she said in disbelief. "What about my mother? She was there. You can't just say "that's it" and clam up."

"She was gone," Red said quietly as he looked away from her.

"What do you mean she was gone?"

"She was just gone. I could never be sure if it was by choice or if someone had taken her. I could hear the fire department coming in the distance. I knew I had to get out of there but I couldn't leave you there alone, so I took you with me," he told her.

"She just left me with you? A stranger?"

"I wasn't a stranger. It's complicated, Lizzie. She was compromised," he told her. "Her life….."

"Compromised? What does that mean?"

"She was a spy, Lizzie," he said bluntly, shocking her with his sudden directness.

Liz tried to digest that nugget of news. It took a few moments and in that time, Red let his guard drop.

"Her name was Katerina Rustova. She was…talented in her field… and, my God, she was stunningly beautiful. You remind me a lot of her. What happened to your family was my fault, Lizzie. I convinced her to switch allegiances and smuggled you all into the US. Your father didn't settle and wanted to go back."

Liz listened to what she hoped was the truth about her roots. She sensed that Red had feelings for her mother and wasn't sure what to make of that.

"Katerina didn't want to leave. I know she loved you very, very much, Lizzie, but knew that you would never be safe around her," he told her, deciding that was enough family history for now.

"What do I do with that? My life is a lie," she asked, unsure whether to be angry with him or grateful. "Is my name even Elizabeth?"

Red shook his head dolefully.

"Masha. Your given name is Masha," he told her. "Masha Rustova."

"And I'm Russian?" she asked.

"Originally, but you were brought here when you were very young. With your father dead and your mother missing, I didn't know what to do with you. I was hurt and so were you so I took you to a friend of mine, to Sam. He took us both in. You probably don't remember, but I was there for the first couple of weeks with you, spent most of it in agony in an upstairs bedroom. I couldn't go to a hospital without questions being asked. He knew a doctor and they did their best to treat me and all the while he looked after you. He even tried to find Katerina, but she had just vanished. When I was well enough to move on he volunteered to look after you. He knew you would never be safe with me. He was right," Red said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

"He promised to give you a normal life, the sort of life I could never give you. And he did and I will be eternally grateful. I know you had a happy childhood. He used to send me pictures and updates," Red told her.

"And Katerina? Didn't you look for her?"

"I did, for many years. Then I heard through a contact that she had been captured and returned to Russia. I looked for her there but they made her disappear. Last I heard, she died in prison," he told her.

"Who was she to you, Red? When you speak of her, your face softens. Were you in love with her?" she asked boldly.

He considered the question.

"Yes," he admitted. "And part of me likes to think she loved me too, but she was old fashioned and didn't want to destroy her family. I often wonder if things had been different…"

"And is that why you came back into my life, just to feel closer to her? Or was I merely a way to get your hands on the Fulcrum?"

"I feared for your safety, Lizzie," he told her. "There were undercurrents in my world that certain people were looking for you and for what they thought you knew. I talked to Sam to warn him, but he had just received his diagnosis. He knew he couldn't protect you and asked for my help. I owed him my life. I didn't even have to think. That was when I hired Tom."

"I just don't understand how you thought inserting this imposter into my life would somehow protect me. You have no idea what you took from me," she said with genuine sadness. "You may have saved my life when I was a child, but you took it from me the day you sent Tom. My life has not been my own ever since. I seem to go from one false version of my life to another. I don't know who I am anymore. I need to be away from you. You're not good for me," she said as she stood up to leave.

"Please, Lizzie, don't go. I'm not the only one in the cross hairs right now. We need to get away somewhere safe. I can arrange it. I understand how much you want to get away from me. I can't say I blame you, but I have to protect you. We don't have to travel together. We don't even have to see each other. Just please let me keep you safe," he pleaded.

She wasn't sure how to react. Despite his inherent knack for messing up her life, he had never deliberately jeopardized her safety. She looked at him. He had fear in his eyes. She had never before seen him show fear so openly. She knew the danger was real, but wondered if she would be safer away from him. She needed to think.

"I'm just going to get some air, okay?" she said, backing down a little. "It's a lot to take in. Can you just let me be for a while?" she said as she headed towards the door.

"Elizabeth?"

She turned back towards him.

"It doesn't change who you are," he reminded her.

_**To be continued...**_

_**A/N - sorry for the long delay in posting this chapter. Real life took over for a bit. Hopefully I'll get more time to write now.**_


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Liz stood outside the main hospital entrance in the early hours of the morning and mulled over what Reddington had told her. It had blown her mind yet hadn't really fully explained anything. What was Red to her mother? What was he to her besides her saviour?

She thought back to the day he was shot and that awful feeling when she believed he was dead. It actually hurt a lot more than she had expected. She feared that she loved him, which felt strange to her considering he was primarily just an FBI asset. She undeniably cared for him. And then there was their connection, their inexplicable, complicated and infuriating connection.

She sat outside, drinking an unappetising cup of vending-machine coffee. It was a cool morning, but she didn't mind. It helped clear her head. Much as she hated to admit it, she knew Reddington was right. The reach of The Cabal was far and the only way to guarantee their safety was to disappear for a while. She wondered exactly what he had planned.

She returned inside some time later and sat on the corridor outside Red's room, not wanting to engage with him any further for a while. She was still sitting there when Ressler and Dembe arrived at close to 8am.

"How is he, Elizabeth?" Dembe asked.

"Better, I think," she told him. "He was anxious to talk to you. You should go ahead in."

Dembe limped in using with the aid of a crutch. Reddington appeared to be sleeping, but opened his eyes upon hearing the sound of the crutch on the tiled floor. Seeing that it was the man he called brother approaching, he relaxed.

"Dembe, you're hurt. Is it broken?" Red asked, seeing his friend for the first time since the boat.

"No, Raymond. It is just a flesh wound. I should be fine in a few days," he told him.

"That is good to hear, Dembe, because we need to leave soon," he told him with a dour face.

"I know, Raymond. I have already spoken to Mr. Kaplan. She is in touch with Mr. Caul. He is awaiting instruction from you," Dembe told him.

"I'm not sure if I'll be cleared to fly for a couple of weeks so we will need somewhere safe until then," Red told him.

"I know a place," Dembe told him. "I will handle it."

"Do you have a phone?" Red asked.

Dembe gave him one of the burner cells that Agent Navabi had purchased on his request.

"I'll call Kate and get the ball rolling. She has the Fulcrum and after all that's happened, I've decided that it's time to use it," he said. "Once I do this, there's no going back, Dembe."

"I understand, Raymond. Whatever happens I am with you," Dembe promised.

"I know you are, my brother," he said gratefully. "I know you are."

Red made the call To Mr. Kaplan. She then gave him details on how to contact Leonard Caul. Their conversation was brief but informative. Once finished, Red then handed the cell phone back to Dembe.

"He who knows when he can fight and when he cannot will be victorious, Dembe," he said philosophically, quoting The Art of War. "Make our preparations. We must be ready to leave tomorrow."

With that Dembe left and Red relaxed back against the pillows. It was done. The ball was in motion. The information in the Fulcrum would soon be revealed to the world. Heads would roll and the price on his head would only go up. He had, in all likelihood, signed their death warrants. They had to disappear. Although it felt like running away, to him it was merely a regrouping, a tactical retreat. He was recovering, so was Dembe. They needed to be at their full strength if they were to emerge victorious the other side.

The rest of that day, Red rested. He did not see Elizabeth at all. She was stewing and keeping her distance. The information Red had shared gave her even more food for thought. She had to decide whether to go with Red when he decided to leave or to stay and take her chances. Could she just up and leave her life? Maybe she would be safer staying put with the FBI protecting her? Then she considered the possibility of a mole and the seemingly boundless reach of The Cabal, and started to wonder exactly who she could trust. Only one person came to mind. Reddington.

Harold visited with Red during the day and spoke to him of the FBI's intentions to get him to a safe house once he was well enough. Red appeared to listen and agree, but had no intention of going anywhere with the FBI. There were few people he knew he could trust. Harold was not one of them. He trusted Dembe to organise everything.

Late that night, when Red was sleeping, Liz returned. She entered his room silently and sat with him. She noted how better he looked. A smidge of colour had returned to his cheeks. His breathing sounded less laboured and he didn't look as though he was in any pain. That fact made her feel better.

She stayed the night with him, dozing on an armchair in one corner of the room. When Red woke early the next morning, he smiled when he saw her there. He felt a sense of relief that he had not lost her. He said nothing and let her sleep. She stirred not long after and stood up to stretch her back.

"Good morning," Red said his smile illuminating the room.

"Morning," she said as she ran her fingers through her hair.

"I didn't expect to see you here," he told her.

"I had a lot to think about," she explained. "You were asleep when I got here."

"I seem to do that a lot lately. I'm sorry, Lizzie. I should have told you sooner," he conceded.

"I still don't know whether to be mad at you or thankful," she confessed. "I think I'll be both for a while, if that's okay?"

He nodded.

"I'm leaving," Red told her. She didn't say anything.

"Later today."

"Today? Isn't it a bit soon?" she asked, her concern for his health evident.

"Maybe, but it's necessary. Information will soon come to light about The Cabal and I will become the focus of their wrath and not just me, Lizzie, you as well. Dembe is making the arrangements. Will I be leaving without you?" he asked hesitantly.

She sighed, wondering if her decision was the right one.

"I don't know. You're going to need someone to look after you," she said, with a resigned smile.

"Indeed I will," Red said trying to disguise his delight. "You cannot tell your colleagues, at least not until we're gone. You understand why, right?"

"Of course," she said. "Where are we going?"

"Honestly, I don't know yet. Dembe is arranging something. I trust him with my life…..and with yours," he said seriously.

"He has never let us down yet," she agreed.

"I may need your help later," Red told her. "We will need to distract your FBI colleague outside," he said, referring to the guard Cooper had put on the room.

"Leave that to me. Let me know when and I'll arrange it," she told him. "I better make some preparations myself."

"Okay," he said. "But Lizzie…..you can't mention this to anyone."

"I know, Red. I know what's at stake. I'll be back in a few hours," she said as she left the room.

While she was gone, Red worried. When she was out of his sight, he imagined her being taken or killed when he was unable to protect her. He tried to remain calm and reminded himself that she could take care of herself.

The doctor came around to see him on his rounds. He was worried about his blood pressure and prescribed him medication to help him relax. He told him that his lungs sounded better and with another week of antibiotics, he would be well on the road to recovery. Red noted that he needed to procure more meds. He had people who would look after his needs, although he wondered how many of them had been compromised. He was reluctant to trust anyone now.

Going off the grid would mean he would have to cut ties with a lot of his old associates. He had a fair idea of who he could trust, but that list was small.

At 2pm, Dembe returned to visit Red. He told him that everything was in place. They waited for Elizabeth to return. When she did, she arrived with two take-out coffees. She handed one to Agent Donohoe who was sitting outside Reddington's room.

"Thought you could do with one," she said, smiling kindly.

He thanked her and gratefully sipped the coffee. She continued into Reddington's room.

"So, how are we doing this?" she asked before taking a gulp of her latte.

"We just have to take care of your agent out there," Dembe pointed out.

"Don't worry about him," Keen said, looking out at Donohoe. "He should start getting sleep very soon."

Red smiled realising that she had drugged the guard. He started pulling out the IV lines from his arm.

"Did you bring some clothes?" he asked Dembe.

Dembe handed him a neat plastic bag from under his coat which contained a pants and a shirt.

"Enough to get you to the car," he said as he unpacked the small bag.

Red began to get out of the bed. Keen reached to help him as he swayed a little when he tried to stand up.

"I'm fine," he insisted as he shuffled towards the small bathroom connected to his room and shut the door.

Once out of earshot, Keen voiced her concern to Dembe.

"I'm not sure he's well enough to leave here," she told him.

"Probably not but it is necessary. When your colleague is out, you must find a wheelchair for Raymond. He will argue that he doesn't need it, but he does," Dembe suggested.

Keen nodded. She watched through the glass as Agent Donohoe's head began to droop. It was working.

"Do you need any help in there, Raymond?" Dembe asked, noting it was taking Reddington a while to get dressed.

"No, I'm done," Red said as he emerged looking flushed. A sheen of perspiration dampened his brow.

Dembe limped towards him, fearing he was going to drop.

"Sit down, Raymond," he said, guiding him towards the chair that Keen had vacated.

Reddington accepted gratefully. He felt a bit shaky. He looked up at his friend, apologetic for his weakened state. Lizzie returned with the wheelchair. Reluctantly, Red accepted the ride. They covered his knees with a hospital blanket and Lizzie confidently pushed him out of the room, past the sleeping agent and down the corridor to the elevator. Dembe followed behind. He pushed the elevator button for the basement. Once down there, he guided them to an area close to the morgue which acted as a loading dock for the undertakers.

Outside there, one of Reddington's most trusted associates, Patrick Wallis, was waiting in a SUV. He was older than Red but a fitter-looking man. His hair was silver and he had a Florida tan. He greeted Red with affection and then helped him into the vehicle.

They didn't hang around as it was important not to draw too much attention to them. Once underway, Red made the introductions. They conversed for a while as they cleared the urban area of Charleston and headed in the direction of the Tennessee border.

Eventually, Lizzie couldn't contain her curiosity any longer and had to ask where they were going.

"Have you ever been to the Great Smoky Mountains?" Patrick asked.

"Can't say I have," Liz replied.

"Oh, Lizzie, you haven't lived until you've communed with nature in the Smokies. The smell of the spruce, the wild flowers and fresh air, somewhere where you can leave civilisation behind and be happy for the rest of your life if need be," Red gushed. "Patrick here was left the most picturesque log cabin by his father several years ago and he has kindly offered it to us for the short term."

Liz smiled at him, unsure whether remoteness was a guarantee of safety. However, she realised that there were no guarantees anymore.

They drove for a couple of hours. Half way into the journey, Red began to doze off. Liz smiled as his head slowly slid towards her shoulder. She didn't move, allowing his head to rest on her. She was seeing a completely different side to Red Reddington over the last week. He had suddenly become human. She had witnessed him at his weakest and most vulnerable. She cared for him, much, much more than she had realised.

It was just as well, she thought. Their lives were forever intertwined. Liz stared out the car window at the passing scenery and mourned for the life she was leaving behind. She loved being an FBI agent. She had loved Tom and a part of her wondered if she still did. He had come back from Europe and surrendered himself to save her from an indictment for murder. He had since helped her when Red had been shot. He was really trying to prove himself to her. Part of her wanted to see if they had a chance, but now, with all this going on, she had to abandon any chance they may have had. She couldn't even call him.

The scenery changed and the picture flying by her window turned to various shades of greens as they left the interstate and drove on winding mountain roads. They drove for quite a while without seeing any other buildings or cars. Eventually, they turned up a dirt track. Out of the shroud of vegetation appeared a beautiful, wooden cabin. It was not at all what she had expected. It nestled on the side of a steep hill. It stood two storeys high, with steps from the parking area up to a covered deck out front, supported by stilts. It was quite imposing, looking out across the misty mountain with an endless view of spruce and sky.

When the car stopped, Red stirred. He realised that his head was on Lizzie's shoulder and he quickly raised it and apologised, sounding a little embarrassed. He stepped from the car feeling stiff and sore. He swayed a little and reached for the car door until the dizzy spell passed. Dembe noticed this.

"Raymond, are you okay?" he asked.

"Of course I am, Dembe. Stop fussing," Red replied, trying to sound convincing. "I'm just waking up. A few lungs full this magnificent air and I'll be ready for anything," he said flashing that beaming smile.

He was convincing no one.

Patrick climbed the stairs first and opened up the house. There was already another vehicle parked. Keen later discovered that it belonged to a security team that Dembe had assigned to the property and surrounding area. There would be a discreet patrol around the property.

Red shuffled towards the steps, unsure if he could actually make it up the twenty or so steps to the deck. Liz watched as he took a deep breath and started the climb, gripping on to the railing. She could see how shaky he was and put down the bag she was unloading from the trunk and went to accompany him.

"Take my arm," she said, offering him her right arm.

He looked a little uncomfortable at the notion, but then accepted her offer. He linked her arm and they climbed slowly. With her assistance, he made it to the deck. There was a wooden bench outside the door and he made a beeline for it.

"You good?" Liz asked.

"Fine, thanks, just a bit pooped," he replied, breathing heavily.

"You sit here for a few minutes and catch your breath while I help Dembe with the bags," she said.

Red sat back gladly and looked out at the vista before him. He gazed out over an impressive valley which was shrouded in mist. He inhaled through his nose and appreciated the freshness of the air and for the first time since he had been shot, was grateful to be alive.

To be continued...

**_A/N - apologies for the delay in this chapter. I'm struggling to come up with a good ending. Suggestions anyone? _**


	13. Chapter 13

_**A/N - my apologies for the delay in this final chapter. I hit a brick wall but decided I had to end it somehow. Hope its not too disappointing.**_

**Chapter 13**

Harold Cooper was fuming. Agent Keen had disappeared without a word, as had Reddington and his associate Dembe. There was no doubt they were together and he had the might of the FBI searching for them. But he knew Reddington and if Reddington didn't want to be found then he wouldn't be found.

He was felt a little hurt that Keen hadn't come and talk to him. He thought they had a connection, a trust but he had obviously been mistaken. She had made her choice, now she would have to live with it.

Ressler, meanwhile, experienced a multitude of emotions. It began with anger which soon turned to concern and finally sadness. As time went on, he realised that there was a possibility that he may never see Keen again. He seemed to be in the habit of losing the women he got close to in life.

Back in Washington, Tom wasn't sure what to think. Liz had disappeared without saying a word. He had offered to try to find information about Reddington's killer and then the next day, Liz was nowhere to be found. He tried calling her cell, staked out the motel she was living in, watched her building at work, but she was just gone. He wondered if she was in trouble but felt helpless to know what to do. He tried calling in a few favours and heard rumblings that Reddington was still alive, but he had no way to be sure.

Then a few days later, the news networks worldwide were abuzz as documents were published implicating some very powerful people in numerous scandals and crimes. Investigations were starting and the world was watching. Governments threatened to fall. Some notable, other notorious, figures either disappeared or met with grizzly ends. The Fulcrum was tipping the scales as had been intended.

In the Smoky Mountains, Reddington was recovering steadily. While they had no TV or internet signal at the cabin, one of the security men would drive to the nearest gas station and pick up the newspaper each day so they could see what was happening now that the Fulcrum had been made public.

Mr. Kaplan also paid a visit after a week to update Red on the latest goings on. She was more concerned about his well-being than the scandals that were rocking the political and commercial world.

"The mountain air is doing you good, Raymond," she said, when she greeted him with an affectionate hug.

"Good to see you too, Kate," he said, kissing her on the cheek.

"It's a beautiful setting for a house," she said, standing on the veranda and looking out over the tree tops.

"A little piece of heaven," he said, directing her to the seat beneath the picture window. "So we've shaken the hornet's nest," he remarked.

"Absolutely," she replied. "And as expected, there are a lot of people looking for you."

Reddington guffawed.

"I can imagine," he said. "So, are you here to tell me it's time to leave?"

"Sooner would be better," she replied. "Have you been cleared to fly?"

"Yes," he told her, despite the fact that he had not seen a doctor since leaving the hospital in Charleston.

"Good. I will confirm the arrangements. Will you be travelling alone?" she asked, just as Agent Keen exited the cabin.

"No," Keen said, having heard her question. "I'll be tagging along."

Mr. Kaplan looked at Red, who was beaming with delight. She wasn't sure if it was the right thing to do, to bring an FBI agent with him, but it wasn't her call.

"I'll arrange everything," she said, trying to sound like she was in agreement.

"Can I offer you some lunch?" Keen asked, being hospitable. "You've come such a long way. I've made meat loaf."

"She can cook," Red announced with a smile.

Mr. Kaplan accepted the offer and they sat down, together with Dembe, and shared lunch. Keen was a little anxious about where they were travelling to next.

"Can I ask where we're going?"

"No," Mr. Kaplan said bluntly. "You will find out at the airport."

Liz made a face, making it obvious that Mr. Kaplan's shortness was not appreciated. Red noticed and piped up.

"Don't worry, Lizzie. Even I don't know for sure yet, although I have my suspicions," he said, reaching and resting his hand on hers.

"Fine. I was only making conversation," Keen retorted. "It would just be nice to know if it was somewhere warm. A girl has to pack."

"Let me assure you, it will," Mr. Kaplan replied.

"Don't worry about your wardrobe, Lizzie. We can buy you a new one wherever we end up," Red promised.

"Great," she replied and continued to eat in silence from then on.

Conversation was light after that. Liz sensed that Red and Mr. Kaplan still had business to discuss so after lunch she cleared away the dishes and began to wash up, leaving Red and Mr. Kaplan to retire outside once more to talk privately. Mr. Kaplan stayed until late in the evening until eventually Dembe drove her away, not saying where to, and eventually returned alone.

Red prepared dinner that evening. He was glad to feel useful. He was still sore and moved slowly, but being up and about could only help him get stronger. He cooked chicken breast with stir-fried vegetables and rice. It was very tasty and everyone enjoyed it.

At dinner he informed Dembe and Liz what Mr. Kaplan had planned. A jet was waiting for them in Morristown Regional Airport. They were to pack tonight and leave tomorrow, their destination was Cuba.

When Liz heard their destination she felt a little uneasy. Red could see by her reaction that she wasn't overly enamoured by the idea.

"It's a beautiful country, Lizzie, and I have contacts who I can call on," he told her. "We will be perfectly safe there."

"I don't know, Red. I'm a US federal agent. I'm not sure how welcome I'll be there," she told him.

"No one will know your former profession, Lizzie," Red told her. "If anyone asks, we'll say you're my daughter, a writer or some such."

Liz looked at his face after he said it. He said it as if it was an off the cuff remark. But to her the very idea of them being related was still a possibility. She had asked him before if he was her father and he denied it outright, but she still had a seed of doubt in her mind. He would do anything to protect her. He had proved it more than once. Telling her they were not related could just be another way of protecting her. She knew there was no point in raising the question again. He would never give her a straight answer. Some day she would get a DNA test, with or without his permission.

"Ok," she replied and smiled. "Ok… Dad."

Hearing her call him dad almost melted Red's heart. It was too close to the bone. He should never have suggested that particular ruse. He had never heard her call him that in his life although he had often dreamed of it. He knew there was a possibility that she was his child. Katerina, her mother, had never wanted to find out. She was married to another man when they had their dalliance. It had gone on for several months until she discovered she was pregnant and then she pushed him away, insisting the child was her husbands.

But, the torture continued for Red. Because he was her handler in the US, he had to watch this little girl grow up from the side-lines and wonder if she was his. The night of the fire, Katerina had called him in panic, saying her husband had found out about them and to hurt him she had told him that Masha was not his. He went berserk and said he was going to kill them all. He was the one who set fire to the house.

Red rushed over and found the house engulfed in flames and Katerina outside begging that he save their daughter. Her husband was dead inside the house. Red managed to find Masha and miraculously they made it out. But Katerina had vanished. They had been thrown together ever since. He fell in love with the little girl he rescued and then had to make the difficult decision to leave her when his life put hers in danger. He never got around to finding out for sure if she was his, genetically, but in his heart she was.

"Red? Are you okay?" Lizzie asked when she noticed he had drifted away for a bit.

"What? Oh sorry, dreaming about those Cuban cigars," he said as an excuse for his loss of attention. "I must pack," he said, getting up slowly from the table and excusing himself.

The next morning, they closed up the house and loaded up their car and made their way to the rural airport. A Lear Jet was waiting on the tarmac to take them to Cuba.

"Are you sure about this, Lizzie?" Red asked before they boarded. "There will be no way back for quite a while."

Liz hesitated and considered the knock on effect that her escape to Cuba would have. Her career would be in the toilet. She would lose her friends and then there was Tom. She had to cut ties with him also. Her life would never be the same. She looked at Red's smiling face, at Dembe and the plane that would carry them away.

"If there's no way back, then we had best move forward," she said, moving towards the plane and becoming the first to board.

Soon they were in the air and Red sat across from Liz who was dozing in her seat. Maybe he should tell her, he thought. Once they were in the relative safety of Cuba, he would tell her everything. It was time. All his attempts to protect her had only hurt her and destroyed the life she had forged for herself. She deserved an explanation and he would give it to her.

Finally.

**The End**.

**_Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed this story. Roll on September for Season 3!_**


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